As if the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!
by Canadino
Summary: High school AU. Various oneshots with various pairings. So much love, so little time!
1. Teacher Relations

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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As If the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

It had been a complete mistake, a slip of the tongue. Romano had not planned on telling his brother anything about the whole situation but when they got home, Feliciano went on a tangent about his day, how he nearly skipped fourth and fifth period when he discovered Home Econ was cooking pasta that day, how he had heard of this awesome carnival thing that was happening that weekend and would Romano want to go? Knowing Feliciano, Romano figured that the carnival outing would probably turn into one big caramel apple filled afternoon with his stupid little brother bothering everyone from school who showed up. In an attempt to slip out of going, he said he had something else to do and when Feliciano asked what, he had just accidentally said it, completely forgetting to think before he spoke.

"Eh?! You're going on a date with Spain-sempai?!"

"S-shut up! I am _not!_"

"Yes it is," Feliciano insisted as he turned his backpack upside down and let his homework fall onto the bed. "You said you were going out with him on Saturday. It's a date."

"It is _not_ a date."

Feliciano stared at him in confusion. "Then what is it?"

Romano sighed, willing the furious blush that had settled on his cheeks to go away. "He was just saying that I had to practice my Spanish more and one thing led to another…"

--

The third years at UN High were required to offer a service to the school, be it helping out after school, tutoring, or donating to the scholarship fund. It was under the 'give-back-to-the-community' sort of thing and many just donated to the fund to escape work. Spain was not one of them.

English being the main language spoken and understood by all, the secondary languages taught at UN included Spanish, French, German, Latin, and Chinese. Romano had figured that Spanish would probably be the easiest to sail through since he was quite fluent in Italian and the two languages were drop dead similar anyway. He was sure he could just screw with the teacher and slide by the rest of the year with a low A, A- if he was unlucky. When he had shadowed the school as a third year in middle school, the Spanish teacher was an old fogey who seemed as if he was breathing his last breath on every single one he took. If he played his cards right, Romano was certain the class would be a laugh.

Then he actually attended the class and discovered his carefully laid plan destroyed.

Spain, who had basically grown up with Spanish, offered to teach the class as his way of helping the school instead of learning a third year of the language when he was already much past that level. The principle, Rome, saw no problem with it and allowed the cheerful third year to get a taste of the classroom. Romano walked in, expecting a dying old man at the front and instead getting a healthy, younger one instead.

In short, it became his mission to make Spain's life a living hell.

"Romano, how would you say 'to like' in Spanish?"

"Fuck off."

He had tried to rally the rest of the class into rebelling against this newbie teacher, but all the girls tactfully ignored him and clamored for the sensei's attention – after all, out of the classroom, Spain was still a third year. The boys had followed his direction for a few days before chickening out since there was an army of girls to suffer under if anyone so much as upset Spain. In the end, Romano was a one-man army in the class and the girls would have clawed his throat out if Spain didn't seem so okay with the treatment.

His attempt at rebellion got so out of hand that he had stopped learning altogether in the class and was failing it while relatively passing his other courses. Rome, also the brothers' grandfather, had a talk with him that he barely listened to. Feliciano also tried to say something but Romano blocked him out as well. Finally, at the end of one of the classes, Spain held him back as a last resort.

"Romano? What's wrong? Why are you always so difficult? If you don't want to learn Spanish, you could always take French."

"I don't like French people." The student body's epitome of the French would happen to be France, a pervy third year who liked to feel up anything that moved. Currently, he was chasing after a certain second year whose twin brother was currently going out with the student council president, England.

"What about Latin?"

"Dead language."

"There's always Chinese."

"The kids who take Chinese scare me." Indeed, all the Chinese students were Asian, save Estonia who found it imperative to take all the languages to be well-rounded. Japan was a loner who often hung out with the resident junkie, Greece. Korea was always trying to one-up everyone. Hong Kong blankly stared at you when you talked to him. Taiwan seemed lost in her own world…they just formed a very odd gang that was much more intimidating than they seemed.

"I don't think you're bad at Spanish," Spain said, changing the subject as he pulled up a chair to sit next to Romano, who notably turned away in his seat. Leaning on the desk, Spain tried to study Romano's face. "Rome-sensei said you have a good background in Italian. So you shouldn't have too bad of a problem with Spanish. What's wrong? Do you not like the class?"

"I don't like _you_," Romano muttered.

"_Ah_. Well, I'm sorry to hear that." There was a pause and Romano continued staring out the window stubbornly. "But you're going to have to bring up your grade soon. I can't have you failing this course."

"Why not? Why do you care?"

Spain shrugged. "I don't know. You just can't. If you don't do well, I'm going to have to tutor you so you'll have to suffer through me some more. Do you want that?"

"No." Romano hadn't even thought about that.

"Then why don't I help you practice a bit so you'll get caught up? Are you free anytime after school?"

"I'm busy all the time after school," Romano lied, knowing full well that he lazed around at home immediately after the last bell rang. "Oh, and during school too. I've got a full schedule," he added as Spain opened his mouth again.

"Then when are you free?"

Romano turned with a glare and opened his mouth to answer when Spain cut him off. "And don't say 'Never' because I know that's not true. There's got to be some when you don't have anything to do."

Romano closed his mouth and continued to sulk, glaring at the clock. He honestly wished he had another class to go to but Spanish was his last class of the day and since he walked home and everyone knew it, it would hurt no one if he left school late.

"What about the weekend?"

Aiming a look of pure loathing, Romano accidentally met with Spain's eager green eyes and looked away quickly. "I guess so," he mumbled.

"Great! I'll see you on Saturday then." Sounding a lot happier than usual, Spain stood up and moved the chair back to the desk he had took it from. Romano had stared at him dumbfoundedly and Spain merely grinned back as he got his bookbag and whistled as he walked out of the empty classroom.

--

"It's a date," Feliciano announced.

"It is _not_ a date."

"It is too! Look!" Feliciano held up his hands before Romano could refute. "First of all, you're going with him just the two of you, right? And it's really got nothing to do with school since you're not going to _be_ at the school! It's a date! Spain-sempai just asked you out!"

It was hard to debunk the cold, hard facts and Romano didn't attempt to as he felt the flush on his face come back in full force. "W…well, what about you, then? I'm sure you're going to see that stupid tutor of yours at the carnival, right?"

Feliciano giggled (yes, giggled). It was an established truth that the younger Italy brother had only taken German because he learned that a certain third year, not naming names (Germany), was a tutor for that course. Romano didn't really know how Feliciano met Germany, nor did he care, but all he knew was the tutoring sessions had strange quirks to it: whenever Feliciano got something right, Germany was supposed to 'reward' him, whatever that meant. Romano knew all that meant was he was going to look the other way when Feliciano undressed one night and revealed a rather large hickey on his neck.

"Yep, I think Germany will be there!" Honestly, that brother of his made him sick. Germany was such a weirdo; he was always so rigid and routine in doing almost everything and he came to school some Mondays smelling like beer. Romano didn't want to know.

"But anyway, Romano, what are _you_ going to do? I know! You and Spain should come to the carnival. Yep, yep, I bet you should. It's going to be fun. Fun stuff. Right? You'll come, right?"

"It's _not_ a date, Feliciano," Romano insisted, glaring at his younger brother who was swimming in the oversized school-issued sweater he was wearing.

"Um, yes it is. Ask Spain-sempai. I bet he'll agree with me. It's a date. Yes, it is." Feliciano clapped his hands. "You two are going on a _Verabredung_."

"Please don't talk German with me, you idiot."

--

Romano didn't bother himself with worrying about what others thought, but if Feliciano thought it was a date…could it be? That brother of his was usually so dim witted about everything and if even _he_ thought it was that obvious…as soon as Spanish was over and the classroom cleared (he waited for the girl stragglers who wanted to impress Spain with their butchered renditions of Spanish poems), he went up to Spain's desk. "Spain…this thing we're going on on Saturday…is it a date?"

Spain stared blankly at him. "It can be if you want," he said slowly. Romano's face heated up and he hurried back to get his book so he could escape back home. "Of course not! And anyway, that's illegal. Teachers can't go out with their students."

"Outside the classroom, I'm just your sempai," Spain reminded him, sounding amused. Romano turned to glare at him and Spain shrugged. "I actually never thought about it like that until you mentioned it." Romano had never slammed another door shut as hard as he did for Spain's classroom.

Dammit, how could that smiley little bastard change his words so it sounded like he was interested in Spain? And he wasn't! But what if they really went on this 'date'? They'd be no better than those airheaded couples that existed already! America and England, who attempted (and failed) to hide their sexual tension, was almost always being caught making out in the student council room. There were rumors saying Greece and Japan got high together (strangely enough, the ones who said this were almost always cornered by an army of cats going home). That hideously annoying jock Denmark could constantly be spotted flirting (unsuccessfully) with a second year art student, Norway. All these (not to mention France's escapades) were gleefully shared by all the girls, especially by Hungary, who seemed to know everything about everyone. Romano was determined not to be the subject of a lunch time discussion.

And there was nothing to discuss! He wasn't interested in Spain like that! The _only_ reason why he always sat in the front was to publicly mock that dumb teacher! And despite popular belief, he had _not_ blushed when Spain smiled at him that first day of school! Why else would he try and turn a good day bad? Because he hated (not liked!) Spain!

He was so angry that he accidentally ran into Germany on his way out and when the blonde asked if he was alright, Romano had punched him in the gut and stormed off (Feliciano told him off later but did he really care…).

--

Why was he here.

He had come five minutes late on purpose and Spain really dared to try and stand him up? That was it. He was leaving after another two minutes. Like he didn't look weird enough standing on the street corner all by his lonesome on a nice day. Ignoring the inquisitive glances from the cars passing, Romano glanced at his watch again.

Two minutes were up.

Well, in _another_ two minutes, if Spain didn't come, he'd…

"Romano! I'm sorry I'm late. I was trying to help my neighbor move some stuff…" Romano debated how he ought to answer this blatant provoke. If he said that he had been waiting a long time, then he'd sound over eager. If he said he had just arrived, it would be a lie and he had enough knowledge of watching Rome with his women to know it was a line usually uttered in dates. He decided to attack Spain another way. "Why are you wearing your school uniform?"

Spain looked down at himself, decked in the school-issued blue plaid pants and the brown sweater with the UN school logo. The third year looked up at Romano, in jeans and a black sweater that looked like he had thoughtlessly-yet-thoughtfully thrown them on. "I thought you said you would be more comfortable if it was school related," he explained.

Resisting the urge to punch Spain in the face (after all, there was a police officer patrolling nearby), Romano took a deep breath to calm himself. "Well, can we hurry up and finish whatever this is so we can get on with our lives? Please?"

"Alright."

It started out innocent enough. They walked a bit as Spain pointed out things for Romano to translate and before they knew it, Romano found himself standing in front of the carnival that Feliciano had been gushing about days ago. Eye twitching, Romano only had a second to comprehend how he had gotten here before Spain grabbed his hand and pulled him in, excitingly talking as he did so. "This place's got a lot of things you should know in Spanish, so it'll be perfect practice if we go, okay, Romano?"

"Eh?!" Not only was he entering dangerous territory, but Spain was, yes, _holding his hand_ now! Trying to cover his face with his other hand, Romano quickly caught up to the ecstatic third year and leaned up against him so no one could see they were connected at the hands (somehow it never occurred to him to pull away). Now, however, they were walking together a bit too close for comfort and complete strangers were whispering amongst each other while watching them.

Spain had already dropped the whole translation game and was pointing out random things as if he had never seen or experienced a carnival before. Nervously glancing around to find familiar faces was not a perfect way to spend an afternoon and Romano pulled at Spain's sleeve. "Can you stop talking so loud? I don't want people to see us."

Spain looked at him for a moment before pulling his sweater off hurriedly, breaking his hold for a brief time. Throwing the school sweater over Romano's head, Spain grabbed the first year's hand again and grinned. "Now no one will know who you are. Happy?"

"You asshole," Romano muttered, tugging at the sweater so it successful hid his face. Spain laughed and pulled him along.

For a second, times were actually peaceful, and without the world in sight, Romano could actually afford to catch his breath, and even smi…

"Oh my god! Is that Spain-sempai?!"

"Eeek! It is! And is that Romano-kun?"

"Romano-kun!!"

"And Spain-sempai? Whaat?!"

"Hungary! Hungary-chan, come over here!"

"Eh? Romano?" Romano jumped as he heard his brother's voice squeak. Three guesses was the person Feliciano was pulling along was Germany. Not only had they been spotted by his brother and his little boytoy, but also by Hungary and her best friend Isabel, who was in the very Spanish class Romano was unfortunately part of. Hearing his name, Spain turned to wave when Romano suddenly started running, pulling him along.

"Romano? Why are we running?"

"Kya!! Wait for us!!"

"Run faster, dammit! You don't want them to catch us!"

As the two ran past a bingo tent, two figures in the shadows shifted to see this speculation, still wrapped up in each other's arms. The taller one, wearing glasses and a brown bomber jacket, chuckled and pulled the other closer.

"We have a lot of rowdy kids at UN, huh, England?"

Owari

--

Note: Yeah. Yeah. I caved. I wrote a high school fic. I actually had a multi-shot in mind but hell, this is my second time writing a high school fic and let's face it: high school really isn't as interesting as in mangas. So I'm gonna just put in meaningless and unrealistic fluff to make stimulations that fangirls/fanboys love so much. Based on an idea on a meme that Shini-chii let me have. Oh, and the idea in my mind actually had no plot. But this will be an updated fic, though. In unrelated one-shots. Because I really want to write the Denmark/Norway in my brain right now. So please read on. And I always feel as if my Italy impression is so OCC. Italy isn't supposed to be a spastic piece of awesomeness. REVIEW OR YOU SHALL BE CURSED BY ENGLAND! AFTER HE IS DONE DOING SCANDALOUS DEEDS WITH AMERICA.


	2. Painter's View

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

---

As if the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

Denmark doesn't know if Norway knows he's standing in the doorway. He probably does; Denmark carries around an air with him that is virtually impossible not to sense even if one is blind. Norway makes no acknowledgements as he continues to paint his latest masterpiece. The second year doesn't have to look at the collection of glasses to know just how the light hits them. He is ignorant of everything around him as his brush dabbles another light smear of shadow.

It's been like this for a while. Besides staring at him during homeroom or pestering him in the hallway, Denmark comes to the art room after basketball practice and waits for Norway in the doorway. Usually, his friends come to cart him away but today, no one comes and Denmark is still at his perch when Norway cleans up around five. Securing his art supply bag over his shoulder, Norway makes his way to the door and Denmark shifts to block the exit with his body. From the moment he started for the door, Norway has been staring at the floor and continues to do so as he nears Denmark. When he reaches the door and Denmark doesn't move, Norway merely shifts weight on his feet.

"Move, please."

"Nope."

Impatient to leave, Norway tries to duck past or slide through either side but Denmark is too quick for him and they finally settle still again; this time, Norway and Denmark's torsos are nearly touching and Norway sighs.

"Don't be annoying, Denmark. Move."

Denmark grins cockily, his frame easily filling the small doorway. "You really think I'm going to let you get away this time?"

Eyes still downcast (although they're too close for him to see the floor anymore), Norway grips the strap of his bag. "Why do you always bother me?" he asks.

"I thought it was obvious." Denmark leans against the frame, running one hand through his already unruly hair, brushing against Norway's arm by accident. He lets a second pass before answering. "I like you."

Norway glances up, skepticism in his blue eyes. Denmark smirks back, violating his bubble by reaching out to pull a bobby pin out of Norway's hair, which had held his hair back from being submerged in the acrylic paints. Not flinching at the touch in the slightest, Norway stares challengingly back before smiling slightly.

"Now what makes you think I could possibly like you back?"

"What?" Denmark waves the bobby pin in the air in disbelief. "What are you talking about, Nor? Have you _seen_ me? Don't play hard to get."

"I'm just saying," Norway shrugs, his breath soft against Denmark's face. "There's plenty of people I could like besides you."

"Like who?"

Norway sighs again. He does not have time to play stupid games with Denmark. He always has tons of work to catch up on since he sacrifices a big part of his afternoon in the art studio – not that he minds, mind you. "I don't know…someone…closer to me?" The smile on his face becomes teasing as he sees the effect the words have on Denmark and he likes it.

"Someone closer to you? Oh please. Unless you mean…" Denmark drifts off, frowning. "Iceland?"

Iceland is Norway's only close friend. Sure, he doesn't being with his cousin Sweden or Sweden's 'friend' Finland, but they're third years and occasionally have no business lounging around with a second year. Iceland stays isolated by himself even when Norway is with him – neither cares, as Iceland prefers to read in his free time and Norway prefers to paint in his free time. Silence is golden.

"That's impossible," Denmark says, although he sounds as if he's trying to convince himself. "You don't like Iceland."

Norway shrugs again. "Please move."

"Nope. I definitely ain't going to be moving now." Denmark shakes his head. "But I'll get out of your hair in one condition."

"What?"

Denmark flourishes the bobby pin again, as if conducting an orchestra. "Kiss me once and I'll get out of your way." He looks so proud of himself that Norway can't help but laugh.

"What?"

"Kiss…_you_?" The chuckles shake Norway's smaller frame despite Denmark's frown. "Why would I want to kiss you?"

"Then how are you going to leave?" Denmark countered, pressing against Norway and barricading himself in the doorway. Norway stops laughing, although the smile doesn't leave his face. He looks up at Denmark, only about a head taller than himself, looking for an opening.

"Is that the only way you'll get out of my way?"

"Yes." Denmark grins, relishing in his newfound victory. "Come on, don't be shy. I don't kiss and tell."

"If you say so," Norway says slowly, leaning up. Before their lips can touch, however, Norway spots something beyond Denmark's shoulder and moves away. "Hey! Hey, Iceland!"

Hearing the rival of his so called rival, Denmark quickly turned to see an empty hallway. At this distraction, Norway seizes his chance and squeezes past, almost knocking Denmark off his feet. Laughing, Norway leaves Denmark trying to find his balance against the doorway. "You're extremely predictable, you know."

"That wasn't fair!"

Norway looks over his shoulder, a coy smile playing his lips. "I never said I was going to play fair with you, Denmark." Denmark flushes in spite of himself; Norway is so cute when he smiles like that. Feeling as if all is forgiven, Denmark quickly straightens up. He was so close, but next time, he'd make it all the way. Now…to take care of the recent nuisance…

--

The dorks were always had to find, Denmark realizes. The jocks, he can probably locate near the courts outside. The nerds were either cooped up in the computer lab or library. The artsy types (Norway) could always be found in the art room. Normal kids could probably be discovered outside or making out in classrooms. But Iceland…he was has hard to find as a straw-colored needle in a haystack.

After thoroughly searching the entire school, Denmark tried Norway's homeroom, and lo and behold, there was his prey. Throwing shut the sliding classroom door, Denmark marched up to Iceland, who was sitting and reading quite silently by himself. Glancing up, Iceland turned back to his book disinterestedly. "What do you want, Denmark."

"I've got a question to ask you, Icey."

"I would thank you not to shorten people's names."

"Shut up. I'm the one talking." Denmark slammed his hands on the desk and Iceland looked up in surprise. "It's about Norway."

"What about him?" Iceland looked blankly at Denmark before a light seemed to shine his eyes. "Ah! Right. Well, you cold probably find him in the art studio up one more level and…"

"No. I know that. It's something else." Leaning against the desk, Denmark got more in level with Iceland's line of view. "Something between you and him."

"What about him? He's my friend," Iceland said, sounding defensive.

"Right. Is that it?"

"What are you talking about?"

Denmark almost growled, leaning further down to seem more intimidating. Iceland shut his book with annoyance, frowning. "You're not making any sense."

"Norway. How do you feel about Norway?"

Iceland rolled his eyes. "I told you already, he's my friend. Now, if you're done asking me questions, I'll…"

"I'm not done yet! What if he liked you? Would you like him back?"

"What?" Before Denmark could repeat the question or Iceland could question further, the desk Denmark had been leaning on toppled over, spilling out and knocking Iceland over. Denmark, who had been leaning his entire weight on said desk, toppled over as well, falling on top of Iceland, along with the books. This caused an earsplitting crash the silence.

"What the _fuck_," Denmark muttered, trying to save his limbs from the mess. Iceland groaned as he tried to sit up and at that moment, while Denmark was sprawling over Iceland, tangled in the desk and books, did the door slide open to reveal Norway, looking tired. "Hey, Iceland, let's go…"

There was an uncomfortable silence as Norway stared at the scene in front of him, a confused looking Denmark practically hovering over a disheveled Iceland, on the floor, hidden from immediate view. "I see," Norway said after the silence, his voice low. "You can't have me, so you'll try with Iceland…_that's_ how it is, right, Denmark? I'm sorry to have interrupted you then." His voice had gotten dangerously smooth and with a rather sarcastic smile, Norway slammed the door shut again.

"Norway?"

"Shit," Iceland muttered, and Denmark turned to the second year, who was rubbing his head and looking troubled. "Norway's really pissed now."

--

Denmark didn't know Norway to be the kind of person who held grudges, but the hostile silence he got from the boy couldn't really be counted as a grudge; on the contrary, it had to be on a deeper evil than that. Iceland had been avoiding him as much as possible and it had even reached Hungary's supersonic ears that something was happening between the egotistical jock and the dedicated art student. Denmark is back at his perch again, leaning against the doorway to the art room again. Norway has shot him glances of pure evil but he doesn't move.

Norway cleans up much earlier than usual and marches up to the door, eyes on the floor again. Denmark blocks his way again, crossing his arms. "Norway, talk to me."

Denmark is surprised Norway's eyes don't glow red with the immense dislike shot his direction. "Get out of my way, Denmark."

"It wasn't what it seemed like, Nor. Listen…I was--"

"I don't want to hear it and _don't call me Nor_." Norway looks Denmark in the eyes, intensity almost coming out in visible waves. "Maybe it isn't like it looked, but why should I suddenly believe you? It hasn't been the first time you played around with people. Do I need to remind you about Finland? It's the exact behavior of all you jocks," Norway spits out, almost a venomous snake. "All you do is play around with people until you get bored with them and you go screw around with someone else. That's all. You just got bored with me, so you decided to go fuck around with Iceland, right? Get out of my way."

"I wasn't 'fucking around' with Iceland," Denmark retorts, using air quotes. "It was just a misunderstanding, that's all. Haven't I already said it? I like _you_, not Iceland. What's it going to take for you to realize it?" He knows it's probably a bad move, but he pokes Norway in the forehead as he says this. It is a bad move; Norway looks about ready to rip his finger off.

"Show me dedication," he says, the words coming out sounding like a curse, "and I'll show you a me ready to give you a chance. And _get out of my way_!" Giving Denmark an uncharacteristically powerful shove, Norway pushed Denmark out of the way and stormed down the hallway, trailing his bad mood after him. Frowning, Denmark glared after the angry boy and as if the sun and moon suddenly aligned, it hit him: Norway _must have _liked him and that was why it was all so screwed up. Maybe jocks really were as dense as they said, if it took him _this_ long to realize the truth.

But now, how to fix it…?

--

It's stupid, really, but Norway checks his watch for the fifth time that afternoon. It's already four-forty five and Denmark is no where to be found. Not that he stalks the fellow second year, but Norway knows for a fact that basketball ends at four-fifteen. Glancing at the doorway again (still empty, no matter how much he looks at it), Norway sighs as he collects the paintbrushes to rinse. He can't focus with that little problem nagging at him anyway.

He hears the stones much earlier than he turns to look at them. Finally, when those annoying little clatters become too annoying to bear, he turns to the window, wiping his damp hands. He thinks he is imaging things when…ah, yes, another pebble hit the window again. Walking to the window and sliding it open, Norway blinks as he looks down at the field.

The ordinarily green (and well-kept) field suddenly has splashes of burnt sienna in odd places until Norway realizes they spell words. Messy, with letters of varying sizes and shapes, the words: _I'm sorry_. He looks down further and sees Denmark waving at him, a collection of odd stones in his hands. He looks sheepish, gesturing out on the grounds. Norway spots the empty cans of paint nearby and realizes something else: that was _the_ paint.

Too impatient to leave via stairs, Norway climbs onto the ledge and jumps down to the grass below; and anyway, the art room's only one story above ground. Nevertheless, Denmark comes rushing to him as if he's broken a bone and Norway steps forward to meet him, punching him in the face as he does so. "You idiot," he hisses, and steps forward to swing again. Denmark catches his wrist.

"Listen, before you beat the shit out of me, I'm sorry. I was just talking to Iceland about you and then I lost my balance and…"

"Shut up." Norway uses his other hand to cover Denmark's chatty mouth. "Iceland told me about it. Save your sugary words." Of course, now with one hand held by Denmark and the other covering the latter's mouth, Norway is close to the arrogant second year again, not to mention defenseless. Denmark seizes his chance and wraps his other arm around Norway's waist, securely pinning the smaller boy against him.

"Iceland told you?" Denmark mumbled through Norway's hand.

"Yeah. I wasn't talking to him, but he cornered me and told me everything. He said he didn't mind me ignoring you since he hates you for bothering me, but he wanted to get the story straight that you and he aren't involved in the slightest." Norway removes his hand from Denmark's mouth and rests it on the taller boy's shoulder, so that from far away, it looked like they were dancing in place. "How does it feel to be hated so much?"

"As long as it's not you, I'm fine with it." Denmark releases Norway's hand and wraps that arm around the boy as well, covering all escape routes. Norway grumbles and tries to pull away half heartedly but Denmark doesn't relent.

"I'm sorry," Denmark says again, leaning down with a charming smile. "I should have noticed earlier…to think for so long…"

Norway frowns. "What are you talking about?" he asks.

"Your feelings for me. I should have known all this time."

Norway stares at him blankly before chuckling. "How could you have possibly known," he asks, a mischievous smile on his face, "when I just realized them?"

Denmark looks down at him. "So you haven't liked me all this time?"

"No. It was just fun screwing with you. And then that incident with Iceland…" Norway trails off, looking off for a moment before blinking and glaring up at Denmark. "But you're still an idiot."

"What now?"

"That paint. You don't know, do you?" Denmark's blank looks tells him everything. "That paint was supposed to be for the art show a few weeks from now. It cost a fortune to get it in that exact shade…and you used it all up to apologize to me? You're so insensitive."

Brief dread passes through Denmark's eyes, quickly covered by unconvincing 'what-are-you-talking-about?' vibes. "Well," he struggles, trying to regain his composure as Norway watches. "At least I'm dedicated, eh?"

Norway's mouth falls open and Denmark burns this face in memory; he hasn't seen it before. If possible, the tiny curl in Norway's hair seems to twitch as the boy tries to speak. "I…you…you strange being…"

Denmark laughs and Norway sighs and attempts to free himself from the former's grip. "I do _not_ want to be around when they find this," he says, trying to push Denmark away. At the resistance, Denmark's grip becomes tighter and Norway knows it's coming even before Denmark says it.

"Nope. Not until you kiss me."

"Again?"

"Yes, again. And you're going to kiss me or I won't let go. Even if Iceland comes up and starts taking notes on us. I'm not letting go this time."

Norway sighs again, exasperation apparent on his face. "Why must you always be like this…" Instead of pulling away, however, this time he presses his lips against Denmark's, his eyes fluttering shut. Denmark kisses him back, unusually gently for someone usually so rough. The paint's chemical smell blows away as they break apart and Denmark reluctantly lets go.

"Will that get you through?"

"Only a while." And before they can say anything else, the groundskeeper sees them, sees the empty paint buckets, sees the ruined field and they run. Norway looks up at the sky realizes this, _this_ is the shade of orange he's been looking for and he wants to take it from above him but he can't, he's running…and all of a sudden, Denmark scoops him up in his arms.

"Reach for it," he says, and Norway wonders if Denmark's known about it all along. He suspects so and he complies, his fingers grasping for the color but he knows he can't get it, it's too far away. Denmark whoops as they escape the campus and Norway knows life won't be getting any easier for him but it's okay, he has this moment.

He has _this_.

Owari

--

Note: (insert retarded peace sign) Yeah. Forgive me for unleashing utter CLICHÉ-ness on you! I apologize! Extreme shojo alert! Help! But yeah, I really wanted to write this pairing, so this is what happened. I wish more people would write for it. If anyone writes for it, I'll write a fic for your troubles! Please! Next up is France and Canada! IN FIRST PERSON! WHOA! Review or I'll kill you.


	3. I Love You, You Love Me

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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As if the Year Wasn't Hard Enough! 3

Alright, alright, imagine the person you like. You thinking about him/her yet? Yeah? Alright, now think about telling said person your feelings. Weird, right? Could you even do it?

Alright, now let's say this person sees you everyday. You are constantly in contact with this person. And guess what? This person flirts with you constantly! That means you could tell them how you feel, right?

Well, not if you're me, anyway.

Who am I? Oh, don't mind me…I'm just Canada. You probably know my brother a lot better…yeah, you'd probably know America. He's my twin so you probably thought he was rambling on about nothing, right? Nope, he's luckier than I am; he's probably swapping spit with England-sempai right now. I don't know how he does it; he just went up to the student council president (yes, the _student council president_), basically violated him, and suddenly, BAM! They were in a relationship. Mind-blowing, I know.

I should probably get to the point, but I've got time. It's not like I'm waiting to go on a date or anything…

Alright, I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything, so don't get distracted, okay? I'll tell you the whole story. I won't leave anything out.

I know it's cheesy and everything, but it's true, so I'll begin like this: it all started on the first day we (America and I) attended UN. The first years always have to sit at the back and stuff and listen to the commencement speech or something other like that. Basically the principal and the student council president talk about how great the year's going to be and how everyone's so excited to see new faces and old friends. What bull. I could already see my first year as hell. Upperclassmen, no matter what you say, are _always_ going to be cruel to underclassmen.

Anyway, I was sitting next to my brother (older than me by only seven minutes), who was fidgeting around and being all antsy like he usually is. I'm used to him not being able to sit still for long, but it was getting ridiculous. I elbowed him. "What's wrong with you?"

"That student body president guy," he says back to me, nodding toward the boy talking. "What year do you think he's in?"

I looked at the guy. "I don't know," I answered, truthfully. The boy didn't look taller than America, who is pretty tall for his age, but I didn't see him at the first year get-together, so I figured he wasn't a first year. And anyway, how could a first year be the student body president anyway? "Why?"

"Nothing," he says back, but he's got that grin on his face and I know this kid, this student council president guy, he's not going to live another moment without my brother making passes at him. I recognize that flirty smile.

"You'll be picking on someone older than you," I remind him, but he shakes his head, as if saying, _Canada, Canada, Canada._ "I don't mind going after cougars," he whispers back, winking. There's no hope when America's got his sights set on someone, so I give up and decide to commit to memory everyone in the student council in case I would need their help in the coming year.

And then I see him. _Him_. You could say I was jolted the same way America was, but not as horny.

I don't know how I could fall for someone like that, but I did. I had long past gotten over my shock in liking guys, since if you're programmed like that, you're programmed like that. And America was okay with his condition and he was popular, so I figure there's no point in denying it, right? Yeah?

Anyway, before I could even think, I was pulling at my brother's sleeve again. "That guy. Over there. With the long-ish hair. What's his name?"

America turned at my direction, frowning; I had distracted him from his already formulating dirty fantasies with the student council president. "How should I know? I'm as new as you and he's not talking." A light bulb (or a candle, some might say) seemed to go off in his head and his flirty smile was replaced with amusement. "Ooh, I see. You're claiming your territory too? I would have never thought!"

"I'm not claiming anything," I said defensively. "I just want to know, that's all. What's wrong with getting to know your classmates?"

"Hey, I bet he's older than you too."

"Shut up!" At this point, I (forgetting to think yet again) shoved my brother, who ungraciously fell out of his seat into the aisle. The whole hall fell into a hush as America got to his feet, brushing himself off. Looking to the stage, where the student body president had been talking (and was now gaping at my brother like everyone else in the room), he saluted briefly. "I'm okay. Carry on."

I'm sure my brother kills for moments like those.

The rest of the talking part went by relatively quickly after that, as the adults realized the students were getting rowdy. Classes started and I momentarily forgot about the boy on stage with the long hair. In all other cases, hair of that type would look trashy or hobo-ish, but it just…I don't know…it suited him. And I didn't even know his name!

Anyway, I was getting myself lost in the winding hallways (I still maintain that the school should just be two stories, with one long hallway in each one so there's no mistake), and as fate would have it, I rounded the corner and there he was. Fate likes to deal me weird cards like that.

Actually, nothing would have happened if that little sidestep thing that never works didn't take place. You know, that move you try to do to walk around someone and then they turn in that direction so you backtrack and go the other way and the other person does the same? Well, the guy wasn't giving me any second looks until this silent exchange happened for a good five minutes. I, personally, was feeling a lot more embarrassed than I'd like to be. Couldn't one of us just walk around the other and the whole thing be over? I'm pretty sure my face was redder than those gaudy shirts America wears all the time; then the boy laughed.

Really, he just stood there and laughed. _Here it comes,_ I thought. I was just another lowly first year, waiting to be hazed, and here was the perfect opportunity. But he didn't do anything. He just stood there and laughed, and it wasn't a mean laugh either. In spite of myself, I laughed a bit too. It was a funny situation.

Okay, you got me. I didn't laugh. I just choked.

"You were sitting next to the goon who fell out of his seat this morning, weren't you?" he said after he stopped. And all this time I was thinking, _Only this guy can work a sweater vest like that. Thick brows president looks like a tool in that_.

"Yeah. He's my brother."

"Really? Then you should tell America that England's got his number for interrupting his first ever induction speech or something." Ah, England! Right, that was the president's name. It hit me that this guy didn't mistake me for my brother for once. I snuck a glance up, as I'd been staring at my shoes all this time. I knew I looked like a mousy first year, but hell, I was, okay?

"You're new, right? First year?"

I nodded.

"Cool." As if there's anything 'cool' about being a first year. (1) I took a deep breath and wondered if it would be appropriate to ask this upperclassman his name. I opened my mouth to begin before I realized how weird it would be, so I shut my mouth again. The guy merely raised his eyebrows.

"What's your name?"

Ah, perfect! "I'm Canada," I managed to stammer out after I found my voice which had lost itself in excitement over this opening. "And yours?"

Then the whole scene changed. The guy took a deep breath as if he was getting ready to make a whole spiel about something. Oh, and you know that manga about a certain high school and a certain host club? Something like that happened; I swear, I don't know how, but rose petals just flew out of _nowhere_.

"I, my dear little first year, am the one, the only, the resident lady's man…France!" Except he didn't say it like that. Instead of saying 'France', he elongated the word so it came out sounding like 'Frrraaahhnce'. I'm not kidding. Do I kid around?

How does one react to something like that? Maybe America would have countered with something just as flashy, but I did not need something like that on my first day. Not to mention my heart had been pounding so hard since we started talking that I was sure I would be having a heart attack soon. So I did the most unusual thing.

I actually ran away. Seriously, I turned on my heels and bolted down the hallway as if hell (or at least, America with his saw after you insulted his DIY skills) was after me. And believe it or not, France actually chased me. "Where are you going, Canada? Don't run away! I don't bite! Not unless you want me to!"

That was last year.

This year is different. I know it's different because I walked into my brother and England having one of their steamy encounters. I know because I walk around with first years who skit away from me too (apparently America hung one up on the flagpole just because and the little guy cried and cried until Germany-sempai got him down – oh, and he has a twin too! But that's another story). I know because France has just grabbed me again and shoved me into the cleaning closet.

I know a lot of you would grab to be in my position, regularly kissing the person you like on a daily basis. But it's hard for me. Because France doesn't know I like him. I mean, he flirts with so many people that you've got to tell him you like him for him to know. And although when he kisses me, when his lips touch mine, I get this feeling that I want to say something, that I just want to blurt out, _I like you, so take me already!_, but then the shyness takes over and I can't say anything.

The making out is a plus though.

But that's not what I'm trying to say! The thing is, I _want_ to tell France I like him, but I just physically can't! And it's not like I'm afraid that he'll stop paying attention to me if I say anything; he's not those types to play around with people until he gets bored with them, or the ones who are only interested in the hard-to-get types. I just…I just…_can't_.

You know what I mean?

It would be a lot of help if someone could help me out.

I mean, it's depressing everyday to come back home and complain, not to my parents – god forbid! – or to America – again, god forbid!, but to my dog, Kumajiro, a St. Bernard that's so big and fluffy he almost looks like a big white bear. Technically, Kumajiro is both mine and America's dog, but America's already neglected him so much that I've taken him in and we're best friends. You know, if Kumajiro was a human being.

"I want to say something," I tell the dog, who stares back at me blankly. Kumajiro is such a weird little dog. I take care of him and feed him and take him out for walks, but when I call his name, he stares at me like he's never seen me before. Oh well. I hug him and he growls a bit. "Why can't I say anything? I always have such good chances to."

"Maybe if you'd stop talking to dogs, you'd finally get laid," America said rudely, walking into the kitchen to get a snack. That boy really needs to lay off eating for one moment. I can't believe I'm related to him.

"Why don't you go bother England-sempai some?" I say, rudely back. America shrugs as he reaches into the fridge and takes out the peanut butter, uncapping the jar and dipping his finger in. Kumajiro barks and I mirror his discontent. "And don't do that; you'll spread germs."

"You're just like England," America says, speaking around the sticky peanut butter in his mouth. " 'You'll spread germs'," he mocks, strangely sounding like England, plus the accent. "Honestly, he's a third year. He should just lay back and relax. I can't believe he's getting so worked up about his last year of high school."

"We should be studying too," I say, feeling the need to defend my brother's absent boyfriend. "Exams are next year."

"Not you too!" America yelps, shoving the peanut butter (uncapped) back in the fridge. "Come on, Canada! We're second years! Prime of our lives! Relax a bit." He frowns at me as if I've insulted him and walks out of the kitchen. I let Kumajiro go and follow him. I've never really gone to my brother for advice, but maybe he can help me.

"America, I've got a question."

"No, I won't take an exam prep course with you."

"No, not that. It's just…your relationship with England…it's good, right?"

America looks at me as if I've sprouted an extra head. "Of course it is. Haven't you seen us? Where have you been?"

"Yeah, well…" I fall in step with him. "How did you guys start? I guess what I'm asking is…I don't know…"

"You know how it went. I told you. I went up to him one day after school, pushed him against a wall, kissed him, and told him he should go out with me cause I'm just fucking awesome!" America pumps his fist in the air. "Wait, did England ask you to say something to me? If so, just say it."

"No, no. I haven't talked to England. It's just…how do you tell someone you like them?"

America stares at me for a beat before replying: "I'm already going out with England, Canada."

I rest my case.

I've practiced, you know. I've stood in front of the mirror and said almost a million times, over and over: "I like you". I've even tried it out with my friend, Cuba, who just chuckled and said no, he did not swing that way, but thanks for the sediments. And when I asked Cuba how to tell France I liked him, he told me I should just jump him.

Um…that's a lot harder than I looks.

And even though the words may come so easily to me without France around, when he's suddenly after me, I find that I can't choke them out for my life. And I have so much opportunities too! France just has to spot me somewhere and he'll come running after me. Once, he jumped out of a third story window when he saw I had PE with America and attempted to chase me around my laps. So it's not the timing that's the problem.

And I want to say it, to hear conviction in my words. I don't want to have someone else tell him for me, or I don't want to write it out for him. I need to be able to back up my words, to say them so no one else can take the credit for them.

And maybe you might be saying that if I can't say those simple words, maybe I don't like France as much as I say? I don't know, but I think I do; he flirts around, especially with a first year, Seychelles. I won't lie, I get jealous, but what can I do about it? If I can't mark him as my own by telling him, I can't complain.

He found me again at the end of the day, when gym is my last class. He waits for the rest of the locker room to clear out (which everyone knows to do when he walks in, his eyes locked on mine) before pressing me against the lockers and doing increasingly scandalous things with me and all I can think when the cold metal scratches against my shirt is _Say it_ and I find myself opening my mouth and…will I?

"France," I say, and he backs up to look at me, his breath fogging my glasses momentarily. All at once, my courage is forgotten and I find myself unable to say anything else. He looks at me with confusion.

"What?"

Take it one word at a time. One word at a time. "I," I say, taking a deep breath, as if I'm about to dive underwater. He waits, watching me carefully. "I," I repeat, grasping his arm to steady me as my words start to cause my body to shake. One word at a time doesn't mean repeats! I take another breath.

"Yes?"

My throat is starting to close up!

"Like," I say next, sounding and acting a bit like I'm mentally handicapped. My thoughts are getting foggy and maybe I should just shut up and let him kiss me, watch him from afar and wonder if next time…but why should I always wait for next time? I'm Canada, and I need to take initiative! Right?

"You like?" France says, winding his hand around, impatient for me to blurt out what I want to say. It's so easy for him, to say what he wants or feels. Words tie me to things; I have to choose them carefully! Maybe the locker room isn't the ideal place for me to confess, but I've started, so I've got to finish! I have to! I open my mouth for the last part and realize…

I've lost my voice! To no avail can I finish my sentence! Oh, to get so far and fall so short.

Then, the last person to float into my head in such a time like this, is…get this…_America_. More exactly, an exchange I had with my brother a few weeks ago.

"Why do you make out with England-sempai so much? Don't you get bored with it?"

America just looked at me with pity in his eyes, as if I was a lowlife that needed an education in such things. "Canada, all you know is Kumajiro and France, so of course you don't know. _Actions speak louder than words_, you know. I just take that phrase quite literally."

Before I can stop myself, my finger shoots out and pokes France and it's obvious this was not what he was expecting. He looks at where I made contact with him, then back at my face, the gears in his head clearly trying to find a connection. I want to repeat my words but I can't even begin at 'I' anymore. I just hope that beyond all home, maybe he's finally gotten my message.

"You…like me?" he asks, his voice incredulous.

Like I said before, I can't speak, so I nod. Just nod. He stops, he steps away. If this is a rejection, it's the slowest rejection I've ever heard of. He just stands there, staring at me like he's never seen me before. Then…

He _jumps_ me. For all those who haven't been literally jumped, this is how it feels like: the significant other leaps off the ground and throws practically all his weight onto you. It's not as sexual as it is painful. He knocks me to the ground and I'm lucky the only things that break are my glasses, which skitter off on the ground.

"That's great!" he says, now attempting…I can't exactly tell, but I _think_ he's trying to take my shirt off with his teeth? "I've been wanting to do this all this time, Canada, but now you've given me the okay!" I did it. I said it. And guess what?

I get laid in the most painful yet spectacular way. And when I get home, America actually applauds. Apparently, the afterglow is that obvious. Or Hungary-san has found out. Either way…

I'll spare you the gory details, but I'm sure if you could imagine your way through the beginning of my story, you can dream up your version of what happened to me.

And all I can say is…

You would never _believe_.

Owari

--

Note: (1) I admit it, I stole this similar line from the book Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan. Also, not-so-subtle reference to Ouran High School Host Club.

Anyway, this is the first ever fic in which I decided to conquer my fear of writing fanfics in first person! Did it work? Yes? I really love France/Canada and they really don't get enough love!! Come on! If USUK can work, so can France/Canada!! Next up is what you've all probably waited for: USUK. Please. You can't write a high school fic without those two. Review or I'll throw grass clippings in your face.


	4. Let's Go Faraway!

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution – AC/DC

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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As if the Year Wasn't Hard Enough! 4

Contrary to popular belief, being student council president isn't as hyped up as it seems to be. England can surely attest to this. The job involves excellent communication skills, especially to teachers and other ones-in-charge. You've also got to be one hell of a leader, if you want to be able to control damn kids like France. You've got a lot of responsibilities and you represent the whole student body so you've got to have some decency and mature judgment.

At least, England tells himself this when people find him and America hiding in an empty classroom, doing activities that definitely don't fall under appropriate school behavior.

Really, it escaped him how he could have even gotten involved with such a rude, inconsiderate idiot – not to mention America was one year younger _and_ topped whenever their shenanigans turned horizontal (well, sometimes that damned second year liked it vertical, but for decency's sake, he wouldn't go there). He figured he must have been a little cracked when America asked him out and he said yes.

That was the only reasonable explanation.

America liked to tell all sorts of strange, heroic-sounding stories about how they had gotten together but England thought he ought to set the record straight of how it really happened. And it really wasn't anything spectacular, even if Hungary made it seem that way.

It happened the first day of his second year at UN. Having been voted the student body president in his first year (after totally pawning all the other competition; he was _England_, dammit), he had been given the honor to give the 'beginning-of-the-year' speech to the rest of the high school. He and then-vice-president France had to sit on the stage, overlooking the rest of the student body and looking as arrogant as possible. Sure, he'd been nervous when the principal, Rome, introduced him, but he found public speaking to be a doable task, and hell, he was the student body president – whoever dared interrupt him, he would be sure that said person would be given hell.

It started out pretty well. He was landing most of the points he was trying to set across (have a good year, be diligent in your studies, don't bully the first years…), and to his knowledge, most of the audience was listening and he was just starting to fully realize that damn, he _was_ the student body president and…

Then a first year fell out of his seat, into the aisle – both rather loudly and rather distracting. The whole hall fell into a hush as the first year, a scruffy-looking blonde prat with glasses, stood up and brushed himself as if nothing had happened. Then, that kid _dared_, he straightened up, actually _looked him in the eye_, and said, "I'm okay, carry on."

In short, by the end of the beginning-of-the-year ceremony, England was royally pissed.

"If I ever see that kid," he had told France scathingly as they made their way to their first classes of the year, "I am going to make sure he chokes on his words and dies a horrible, painful death."

"It was probably an accident," France had said back, clearly meaning to stab more knives in England's already wounded pride.

"It was a _blatant_ challenge to my authority," England shot back. "No respect at all, I swear these first years…_no running in the halls_!" The first year in question, a blonde who looked like a country hick, turned blankly at England before continuing to jog down the halls, calling, "Like, thanks but no thanks!"

"You're only the student body president, not king of the world," France reminded him, but England had stopped listening.

Those who knew England would know that once he got mad, he _stayed_ mad. He was still angry during lunch break, even when Japan asked him if he was okay. No one would understand. It was his first role as someone who mattered, and that irksome first year had ruined the whole moment.

And honestly, if France would not shut up about this first year he had discovered…

Rome had called him to his office after school to discuss his plans for the rest of the school year. It had been a tiresome meeting, as Rome would occasionally break away from the subject at hand and tell stories from his past and ask did England meet his grandkids, a pair of brunette twins? to which England had said no, he hadn't and shouldn't they be talking about how to boost school spirit? After Rome had finished with his little (rather big, actually) spiel, England had decided to clear out the student council room before he went home because heck, he had time and he needed something to blow off steam.

The student council room had been the former teacher's lounge a few years back and the desks shoved haphazardly for the student council to inhabit were still horribly disorganized from last year. Grumbling, England had set off to loudly clearing out the room – so loudly, in fact, he didn't hear the sliding door open or close and he hadn't heard the intruder walk up to him until said person had started speaking.

"You're England, right?"

Jumping up with a start, England turned to see who in God's good name had spoken and glared when he recognized the haughty first year who had fallen out of his seat. "That's me," he said dangerously. "And you're the one who interrupted me when I was talking this morning."

"That's me," the first year said, shrugging. England straightened up and realized it would be to his disadvantage to beat this boy to the ground; he knew he wasn't very blessed in stature, but it was ridiculous to know that someone younger than him was considerably bigger than him. Well, he'd have to give this kid what was coming, nonetheless.

"Do you know how rude it is to interrupt someone when they're talking, especially if they're speaking in front of an audience?" His lecturing side had entered when he least expected it but at least he was giving this nameless first year a piece of his mind. "I don't know what lowlife school _you_ came from, but at UN…" Before he could continue, however, the taller first year had grabbed him and shoved him against the blackboard behind him, England cursing silently to himself as he felt the chalk holder ram uncomfortably against his back. Was this kid trying to mess with him? On his first day?

"Hey, what the hell…" England began again, but before he could finish his second attempt at a scolding, the first year had shoved his tongue into his mouth, effectively shutting him up. Phft. This kid wasn't a good kisser, but with what he lacked in skill, he made up in enthusiasm. England had never met such an active kisser. He hadn't meant to (somehow all the anger seemed to flow away), but he just _might_ have egged on the idiot by pulling him closer. Gasping as he felt the first year's fingers skit dangerously near his crotch, England pulled away, glaring up at the mischievous blue eyes.

"Who the hell are you?"

The first year only smirked, threw back his head and said, "I'm America, I'm a first year, and I think you should go out with me 'cause I'm fucking awesome. Yeah?"

England gaped at this flamboyant show he would have expected of France, before his eyes focused somewhere lower. "I don't know if you're _awesome_, but you have a boner, and that show of indecency is…"

"Well, then, we've got to fix that, don't we?" Without warning, America reached out and grabbed England's crotch, rubbing affectionately through the cloth. Biting back a groan, England reached out to swat America's hand, although his hand feel short as he felt his body react and ooh, warmth…grasping America's sleeve, England tried to keep balance, his knees starting to feel weak.

"You can't talk now, can you?" America smirked, pulling his hand away and admiring his handiwork. England blushed in embarrassment; not only had he been insulted by this first year at the opening ceremony, but now he was reduced to this? What the hell, he was supposed to be older!

"Will you go out with me?"

Was this kid, America, really still on that subject? "I don't even know you," England muttered, trying to recover. America continued grinning, kneeling when England sighed and sank to his knees. "_And_ you're a first year. I'd feel like a cradle robber."

America's laugh was loud and boisterous. "Then cradle rob away," he murmured, leaning forward again to claim England's lips again.

And that was that.

See, he really _must_ have been cracked.

America, who had been enthusiastic about the whole relationship from the start, decided to take it a bit further and insert himself more in England's life (in other words, annoy him at all possible times) by running for student council vice president – and somehow won. England had been reelected again (no surprises, as he had his way around getting what he wanted) and was now stuck with his overzealous boyfriend at almost all hours of the day.

(Hungary had tried to run for a position as well, but failed.)

Their quite physical relationship was welcomed as second nature to the other student council members: France, who had decided to come back as the third year student body representative, had no qualms about inappropriate PDA – see America's twin brother, Canada; Japan, the quiet, polite second year representative, preferred to keep his comments to himself, opting for blunt yet politically correct observations; Seychelles, the bubbly second year secretary, had gotten used to America, thus used to his personality, thus causing her to have no reaction to watching him make out with England only to say that the student council cabinet had run out of cookies; Estonia, the second year treasurer, preferred to stay out of such things, along with Latvia, the first year student body representative.

And life went on. America had been supportive of him as he went on his hunt for universities to attend after his last year of high school. He continued with his student council president duties, spying on the various clubs after consulting their budgets with Estonia. Of course, America insisted on accompanying him, which was why the judo club discovered them rolling around in the equipment room.

He knew he had no right in thinking so, but England felt…

Well, simply, he felt as if the relationship between him and America had slowed to almost a stand-still.

Don't get him wrong, America wasn't lacking in the slightest in affection. God forbid. If so, he wouldn't have gotten so many talking to's from Rome after numerous teachers and students walked into any empty classroom and found them sprawled (thankfully, none of these times had progressed so far as absolute removal of clothing) on a nearby desk. They had already become quite infamous in the school community and if anyone wanted to talk about those annoying couples who were always throwing themselves on each other…England and America would be the first ones mentioned.

England didn't suspect America was cheating on him; he knew that when relationships came to a halt, it was either because the couple in question were old farts or one of the pair was being unfaithful. But he didn't think this was the case; America was still protective of him, grabbing him out of nowhere when the blonde second year thought Spain was getting too talkative (didn't America know his fellow third year was swapping spit with one of Rome's grandsons? Geez). America was a bit of a flirt when he wanted to, almost like France, and he had been one of the skirt-lifters when Latvia came to school in a skirt to promote student council activities. But America was almost clingy to England, only try to save face by acting as if he wasn't a whipped boyfriend (which he was, in certain ways). England didn't think he could cheat on America if he could (America was _everywhere_, it seemed), and he didn't know if he wanted to – the second year grew on him like an annoying yet attractive fungus.

It was just…there seemed to be nothing to their relationship but making out and infrequent innocent cuddly moments. There was no substance. England had a growing suspicion that if in the near future, making out became lethal, he and America would probably just be sitting around throwing barbs at each other. He didn't mind arguing with America so much (he was _always _right), but couldn't they have something…oh, he didn't know…more traditional? Not bouquets of roses or classical music – he didn't want to be sappy and he didn't think America had it in him to be so cheesy – but maybe a heart-felt note or two once in a while, and a date that didn't end in getting nearly arrested for lewd behavior.

England didn't know how to bring it up with America without sounding picky or angry or condescending or a combination of the three. America was extremely dense and he didn't think hinting would be a big hit. Of course, he could ask someone else to subliminally bring it up, but England didn't want anyone else knowing he felt unhappy with their relationship; it was already as public as it was. Too much publicity and Hungary could really tear them apart and he didn't want that, even if he was leaving by the end of the year for university.

It was a vicious cycle, really.

"England, you okay? Getting old, eh? Senioritis?" America laughed at his little joke, despite a glare shot in his direction.

"Oh, your wonderful powers of observation," England shot back sarcastically. Meanwhile, the rest of the student council watched aimlessly as Seychelles explained how he had gotten new snacks, including cookies with jelly in the middle. The only one interested seemed to be Latvia.

America had merely laughed at that, but when they were alone, when they were in America's car after the crazy driver second year had driven them around after school, he had asked his question again. "England, are you okay? You've been depressed lately, I think. You haven't yelled at me as much as before."

"You want me to?" England asked tiredly. It had been a long day full of exams and tests and he didn't really want to be discussing something so important with America, in the back of the steamy car, America's hand tangling itself in his hair.

"No. It's just…well, France told me you were looking troubled lately and I wanted to know if anything happened."

"No. Nothing happened." _Mental note, kill France._

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Nothing happened."

"No need to get all snappy."

"I'm not getting snappy! Shut up, okay?" Settling in a sulky mood, England shifted away from America, trying to smooth his now unruly hair. America sat up, staring at him thoughtfully.

"Guess what. Let's go somewhere. Far away. Right now. Okay?"

"What?" England turned to America with a look of pure surprise mixed with disgust. "First of all, we can't go anywhere far away; we don't have passports."

"Far away, I mean not here," America explained, rolling his eyes. "Don't get all anal with me, England. We're not running away forever. I know how much you love being the student council president. I'll get us back here in a day or two, okay? Relax. It's your last year at UN. A small vacation won't be any trouble at all."

"Maybe, but _you're_ a second year."

"When have I ever cared about rules?" Giving a triumphant laugh, America revved up the engine. "Okay, cool! Off we go!"

"W-wait! We can't go anywhere, I don't have anything!"

"It's spur of the moment! You can't think out everything, Iggy!" America laughed as he used the nickname France had devised. "We won't be gone long," he promised again as he started driving in a random direction away from the school.

"Think this through, America," England tried again as they sped off. "People are going to be worried about us if we just up and left in the middle of the week. Not to mention cops! They're going to stop us if we're just wandering the streets in our uniforms! You don't have a chance of clothes, do you?"

"Yeah, I have a few spares. It's my goddamn car, England. I have everything here."

For once, England didn't doubt him. After he'd unearthed a plunger from the mess in the backseat, England had decided that America's car was America's car. "This is crazy," he attempted, but America held up a hand.

"I'm not listening to your practical reasoning, England. You overthink so much. It's only going to be a short break! Aren't you tired about how things are going on now? God, school is driving you completely crazy! Live a little!" Reaching into the glove compartment, America fumbled with the numerous inside while keeping his eye on the road and pulled out an AC DC album. "Put this in."

"Alright, maybe if I'm coming with you, that's okay." It was already useless to try and convince America to turn around, and personally, it sounded kind of exciting to go somewhere alone with America. "But I'm not going to be listening to some sort of music that you'd come up with."

"Eh? Shut up, Iggy. Angus Young had your accent last time I checked." Not bothering to argue, he grabbed the C.D from England's hand and put the disk in the player himself, swerving a bit on the road. "_Rock and roll ain't noise pollution_…"

"Don't sing," England groaned.

--

By the time they reached 'far away', England was sure they'd never find their way home again. America had taken so many lefts and rights that without a trail of breadcrumbs, England couldn't pick his way back home even in the bright day. They had been on the road for a good hour and a half, with a chunk of that time on the freeway speeding toward who-knows-where. Sure, they were both capable, but England was the only one who was eighteen and therefore more or less the only able adult of the two of them. He figured that had to count for _something_.

It was getting dark and America had established that they had come far enough and hey, they had driven into a nice little city! (England had feared they had driven into the next country already) Finding a cute little motel on the outskirts of the city, America had rented a room, much to England's relief – he had been tired since the end of the day. Then he went into the room and turned back around to America.

"There's only one bed."

"So? It's not like you're a virgin."

Turning red, England shoved America back in the hallway. "Don't be disgusting. I actually want to sleep for once. Whenever you sleep over or when I go over your house, I'm drop dead tired the next morning."

"Wow, I'm that good, eh?"

"You're _unbelievable_."

America laughed, walking back into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Alright, alright, England. We'll sleep tonight, okay? We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"What are we going to be doing? Finding our way home?"

"Nope! Tomorrow we'll do whatever happens to us in this city! Come on, you've got to say you're a bit excited!" America seemed thrilled as he headed to the bathroom to get ready to sleep and came out in pajama pants as if he had a change of clothes conveniently underneath whatever he had been wearing. Frowning as he saw England trying to do work at the tiny desk, America grabbed the papers and binder in one quick movement and opened the window, tossing them out.

"_America_, you wanker, do you know what you just did?"

"No working when you're here, Iggy. And hell, you can probably pick them up from the ground tomorrow morning. It's not windy and we're only about a story from the ground."

Almost as if to spite him, it started raining.

"If I lose all the student council requests," England growled, his eye twitching, "I'm going to have to kill you. Painfully and slowly."

America grinned. "I can take it. It's sleepytime!" Grabbing the struggling third year, America collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Grumbling still, England extracted himself from America's arms and went to turn off the lights. Stupid America. Setting the alarm clock, England tossed some sheets over America before snuggling up to the idiot himself. Sometimes he really played the mother around here.

--

England had set the alarm to six, but America had thrumped him awake by five-thirty. Startled by a sudden weight on the bed, England awoke to see America jumping onto the bed, fully clothed in jeans and an atrocious neon orange hoodie. "Wake up, England! We've got to get a start on the day! Yeah, let's go! Let's go!"

"What time is it?"

"Time to get a new watch! Actually, it's time for you to get up. Oh, and do you have any money?" Shoving the bill that had been slipped under the door, America pounced away to watch some television, leaving England to stare at the receipt. Well, at least the motel could have cost more money…still, he didn't think America had a couple hundreds lying about. Sighing to himself, England knew it would be the first time using the credit card only for emergencies. It wouldn't do to be stranded in this place just because they couldn't fork the bill.

Just as England was paying at the front counter, America jogged up to him, thrusting the black binder he had thrown out of the window the night before. "Here, I got all your papers. Let's go already!" England opened the binder as America bounced away, noting that the papers that had been sogged beyond repair had been painstakingly recopied in America's messy handwriting. It made England wonder just how early the second year had gotten up.

The collection of student council requests in England's hands were the only organized part of the day. America had taken the car off on a joy ride as if gas money was not an issue (England made it clear that student council funds would _not_ cover how much it took to get back home). Then abandoning the car in a blatantly no-parking zone, America dragged England around the city. England had not brought a change of clothes and wearing America's pants would be like wearing a ridiculously long dress so the happy-go-lucky second year forced some collage sweater over his uniform.

America's fashion didn't include anything besides any sort of jean product or baggy articles of clothing. Frankly, England wanted to give him a lesson in how to dress but heaven forbid America would actually sit still long enough for him to talk about formal attire.

America seemed to know this city like the back of his hand. England swore he had been dragged from a hot dog stand to a photo booth, to a library where America shelved rather adult material in the children section. Before England could get his bearings, America whisked him off to a tall building, which looked like a business building but America managed to sneak past security. It apparently was the tallest building in the city (or so America said) and they rode the elevator all the way to the top.

"Fuck yes! This is what I'm talking about!" he shouted as he dashed out on the roof, throwing his hands up as if he could take off into the sky. England, the more grounded of the two, followed him with a glower. "If we're caught, America, we're going to be a world of trouble. Not only are we trespassing, but we're purposely skipping school and…"

"Oh shut up." England blinked at being spoke like that and opened his mouth to yell at America when the latter grabbed him and led him to the edge.

"See? We're on top of the world!" America cheered again, throwing his hands up. "Come on, Iggy. Admit it. We're so high up we can basically forget about school! And France! And the student council! Yeah!" He put his hands down again, grinning apologetically at England. "And anyway, we're already here, so relax, alright?"

England huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm just saying, if we're caught…"

"If we threw a coin down, would it severely injure whoever it landed on?!"

After a chunk of time trying (America emptying his change pocket), the two settled on agreeing that it probably didn't really harm anyone _too_ badly, but it was amusing to watch.

"Some hobo's gonna be grateful I did that," America joked, sitting back on the bench near the edge. England laughed shortly, although the joke had been stale. The two sat in silence for a moment, before America shifted, scratching his head awkwardly.

"Eh…England…I'm gonna miss you when you go next year…" It was obvious that this sentence had been practiced and by the way America's face looked so embarrassed, genuine as well. England stared at him and America stammered on.

"Well…I mean…you know…Canada was saying that France had been talking about leaving and then I thought of you and…I know you're leaving for university so…I wanted to make memories with you." It was so heartfelt and serious that the mood was suddenly sobered…and England laughed.

"What?" America demanded, his face red. England shook his head, trying to overcome his laughter to explain himself.

"It's just…you said…_we're going to make memories_." At the phrase, England burst out laughing again, even with America's disapproving look. "I mean, I like your sediments…but really…making memories?"

"I mean it!" America insisted. "You seemed down lately, so I wanted to cheer you up by going somewhere with you! But of course, like usual, it's not enough…"

"Oh, no. That's not what I meant. It's plenty." England smiled as he leaned over to kiss America on the cheek. "It was exactly what I was thinking…so…thank you, America."

America stared at him. "So you'll miss me when you go?"

"Much."

For a moment, America seemed to be contemplating if he should hold back, thought better of it, before grabbing England and pulling him for an appropriately Hollywood kiss. Just as America started reaching for England's pants, a security guard made his rounds on the roof, catching them. "Hey! You two! What do you think you're doing?"

They made quite a picture, looking hot and bothered with one reaching for the other's pants. Suddenly, America stood up, looking seized with genius.

"Well, you know what? Surprise! You're on candid camera!"

Oh, how they were going to explain their way out of this one, England thought ruefully.

Owari

--

Note: Yeah, shoot me. Obscure AC/DC, Empire State Building, Loveless references. I hope no one noticed. It's not supposed to be sappy! I'm sorry! But USUK is sort of hard to write serious for. Hell, they're kind of hard to write in general. Next up is Estonia/Latvia, and a peek into more of the student council world! Get excited! Review!


	5. Out of Dress Code

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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As if the Year Wasn't Hard Enough! 5

He hadn't even _wanted_ to be on the student council in the first place. Really, he hadn't.

But life decided to screw him over like that. He had been trying to mind his own business on the first day of school, trying to savor the fact that he had left his old school where almost everyone picked on him, when someone decided to nominate him as the first year student council representative since no one else wanted to do it and he was easy prey. He had tried to speak up for himself but the homeroom teacher had advocated for him, and well…that was that.

Latvia had contemplated running away before the first student council meeting after hearing what sounded like a full on world war three in the student council room. He might have gotten farther if Estonia hadn't found him.

Yes, in a school of rather intimidating people, Estonia, a second year, had been nice enough to him to introduce every student council member to him, from the edgy president England to perverted third year rep France. He might have even made friends with Seychelles and Japan off the bat if he wasn't so damn shy. During the whole first meeting, he hid in Estonia's shadow and hoped no one called on him.

Yup, it couldn't be denied; Latvia was really nothing special.

Which was why he had to work oh so hard to get Estonia's attention.

He didn't really know when he had started fostering a crush on the student council treasurer; he _did_ know, though, that when Estonia talked to him and he started feeling butterflies in his stomach, that this was not normal behavior. Maybe he had some sort of hero complex…maybe. Estonia had plucked him from the vat of anti-socialness and inserted him in the world of the student council – right, maybe he wasn't very social there, but it was a start.

Was it so wrong to like someone who really helped you? Who worried for you when England and France started throwing desks and you somehow ended underneath one? Latvia didn't know, but when he realized he liked Estonia more than just friends, he knew one thing.

Maybe he didn't have to straight-out confess, but he had to attempt to get on the radar, at least.

How though? He didn't want to be known as a crybaby, which he was, and he didn't want to play the 'helpless-little-me' card. It was pathetic; even he knew that. When a bulky third year, Russia, decided he wanted to mess with a first year, Latvia did what he nearly always did on instinct – he hid and cried. Estonia found him curled up in the corner of the art room and coaxed him out, promising that Russia had skipped away to bother some other helpless victim.

When he tried to say during a student council meeting that France was wrong; handing out condoms was not a normal thing to do – he couldn't utter a word when everyone looked at him. Estonia had to guess his way to what Latvia was going to say and had to say it for him. Then he'd feel even worse; he was being so dependent on Estonia. He would try and speak for himself and end up apologizing profusely afterwards.

Latvia was pretty sure Estonia thought of him as a platonic friend. The second year liked to hang out with the other brainiacs of his grade and whenever they passed each other in the hallway, Estonia would only greet him nicely before going on his way. Nope, there was no equal affection and Latvia was determined to change it…somehow.

First tactic: be an extremely helpful individual.

When Estonia had to stay behind to file every single club and event information, Latvia had shakily volunteered to help him. Estonia, being an extremely efficient person, proposed that they split the job and that Latvia would collect all the files together and separate them into separate piles. First, this was a workable option.

Then Latvia tripped in the hallway and scattered a couple club's worth of files all over the floor. When Estonia heard the noise and went to see what happened, he found Latvia on the floor, reduced to tears and apologies.

"I'm…_so_ sorry…I didn't mean to…I just tripped…"

So they had to stay longer to separate the files, although Estonia had offered to walk him home afterwards. It was embarrassing to have messed up so royally, but to be going home with Estonia would be too much. Latvia quickly declined and ran the whole way home. Only later would he curse himself for passing up such a prominent opportunity.

Tactic two: be an extremely intelligent individual

Estonia was a genius. There was no denying this fact. He would have probably skipped second year, if he had wanted to. He had only stayed behind because he wanted to learn with peers his own age, even if he could have had an insightful conversation with a collage professor. Latvia decided the next way he could gain Estonia's approval would be to be a good student.

Um…too bad he was averaging a C on most of his courses…

So Latvia stayed behind, cooping himself in the library and forcing himself to do better on his homework. He had stumbled upon a rather heavy and lengthy tome about the history of the world and had been trying (the operative word being _trying_) to read it when he somehow dozed off in the process. Estonia found him sleeping on the book and woke him to tell him the library was closed and he was about to lock up when he noticed the first year still present.

"I'm…I'm sorry, I was trying to read this and…I just…"

Estonia had given him a look. "Latvia, most third years are required to read this book. Why are you reading it?"

"Well…I thought…I thought maybe I could get ahead…" Clutching the book in order not to spiral into a poof of embarrassment, Latvia stared down at the floor, unable to meet Estonia's clear blue eyes.

Estonia chuckled, taking the heavy book from his hands to shelve it away. "It's admirable, but you'll blow your brain out with that kind of vocabulary. If you'd like, I could help you study."

Latvia had quickly agreed, jumping on this new opportunity, before realizing it would give Estonia a chance of seeing how stupid he could be. By that time, it was too late to run away and Latvia had to suffer through a study session preoccupied with the thought that Estonia was sitting _right next to him_ and helping him with some sort of complex math thing.

Third Tactic: be an extremely flirty individual

For the record, it was Seychelles who suggested it. The bubbly second year secretary had cornered him after a student council meeting, demanding the truth. "Latvia-san, I've been watching you for a while and Hungary-chan even thinks it, but do you like Estonia-kun?"

Latvia had blubbered his way to what he thought sounded like a 'no', but apparently gurgled out some sort of unidentifiable language. Seychelles raised her eyebrow. "So it's a yes?"

After pressuring the truth from the first year, Seychelles had put it as her duty to set the two up. By awkwardly forcing the two to sit next to each other to announcing loudly that Estonia and Latvia should be in the same committee for deciding the activities for that year's Sports Day, Seychelles effectively embarrassed Latvia almost to tears by looking knowingly in his direction every time she did so. Estonia seemed oblivious to the attention.

"S-Seychelles-san…" Latvia said after a particularly horrifying meeting where the girl in question made them share a cup of tea because she "seemed to have miscounted the cups". "Could…could you maybe…stop doing these things to me?"

"Sure," she said, with a grin that complimented her bright purple hair ribbons. "Only if you do something instead."

"Like…like what?"

"Like flirt with him."

"H-how?"

After a whole five minutes of Seychelles blowing up about how Latvia didn't know how to flirt ("It's basically when you talk to him in a suggestive kind of way! Like, you don't ask for help, you _ask for help_!"), then shoved a piece of paper in his hands. "Come on, first year. Don't be clueless. Ask him for his help on this."

"Eh…" Latvia turned to Estonia, who was presently talking to Japan about the Asian Club and its problem (Korea). Trembling, he slowly made his way over to the second year as Japan spotted him and quickly excused himself. Latvia wondered if Seychelles told everyone about his crush except for Estonia. How embarrassing…well, he was too close to back out now. Shoving the paper in front of him like some sort of love letter, Latvia kept his eyes on the quivering paper. "Eh…um…Estonia-kun…could you help me with this?"

Estonia scanned the paper and looked up at Latvia with a frown. "These are the minutes of today's meeting. What do you want to know about them?"

_Seychelles-san_! "Um…um…" Randomly pointing at a spot on the page, Latvia kept his eyes trained on the floor. "What…what does that mean?"

"It means we broke for five minutes after America inappropriately groped England and Seychelles refilled the cookie tin."

"Are we still talking about that incident?" England growled from across the room. America sat nearby with a slap mark on his cheek, a souvenir of said incident. Seychelles twitched and marched across the room, grabbing Latvia and dragging him away.

"That is not how you flirt!" she scolded, keeping her chokehold on the struggling first year. "Really! You're supposed to get closer and all that goodness! Don't you learn anything from France?"

"Y-yeah…but France gets attacked when he flirts…"

"Hmm," Seychelles mumbled, deep in thought. She couldn't let this be; especially if she was to be Hungary's underling! She had to get this together, she had to think this through. She had forgotten all about Latvia, whom she still had a death grip on, until Estonia rushed up to her and informed her that she was strangling the poor first year.

Tactic Four: be an extremely flashy individual.

And how else could you beat flashy, Seychelles reasoned, except by cross-dressing?

Yes, it was the School Festival, where every homeroom came up with an activity or theme for their classmates to entertain the parents that attended. Cafes and small shops abounded, but Seychelles managed to convince England that that was just not needed for the student council.

"What we need," she said, loudly and clearly, "is one of the boys here to come in in a skirt. That ought to get the attention we need."

"You're the secretary," England reminded her, but America leapt on the topic. "Yeah! I agree, Seychelles-chan! I nominate England!"

"Hey, what…"

"I offer myself," France said, looking flirtatious.

"Well, who I was thinking of was…" Seychelles began, but England cut her off.

"Hey, Seychelles, since you came up with the idea, why don't you do it?"

"It's nothing special to see a girl in pants," she said, rolling her eyes. "But let's have a vote! Who wants to do it?"

"Not me," England said quickly, just as America opened his mouth to add him. "And not France either; no one wants to see that."

"Well, I'm definitely not doing it," America retorted. "You don't want to see me in a skirt."

"I'm participating in the kendo club performance," Japan added in quickly. "So I won't be around for the student council activity."

"Estonia probably doesn't to do it," Seychelles said quickly. "So that leaves Latvia."

"E-eh?!"

"Yeah!" France immediately warmed to the idea. "Yes, you would do nicely, Latvia. Not only are you very small and would look utterly delicious, but you already have…quite the hips to pull of a skirt as well."

"Hey," America said, smacking him against the head. "Remember you're going out with my baby brother and I'll kill you if you cheat on him."

"I haven't forgotten," France whined. "But I am aloud to admire, aren't I?"

"That, and he's a first year," England added, quick to accept an alternate choice that did not involve him and women's clothing. "Sorry, but you bear the burden of the student council now, Latvia."

"But…but…haven't you thought that _I_ don't want to do this either?"

"Come on, Latvia!" Seychelles said cheerfully, clapping him on the back. "Have some school spirit! The student council needs this kind of attention! You're helping the rest of it! And don't worry; Hungary-nee-san probably has very cute skirts for you."

Latvia shivered at Hungary's name and appealed to Estonia. "Estonia-kun," he said, turning to the second year. "You don't think I should do this, do you?"

The second year looked startled for a moment and paused. "Well…it couldn't hurt," he said awkwardly.

"See?! You have the whole place's approval!" Seychelles grabbed him and dragged him out of the room. "I'll see to it that Hungary has every single measurement correct! You'll look fabby fab fab!"

--

He didn't like this one bit.

After the girls measured him and sewed up the atrocity in home econ, Hungary and Seychelles ambushed him on his way to school and pulled him into a classroom and forced the _thing_ on him.

The thing. In other words, a red plaid pleated skirt, not to be mistaken for the blue plaid pleated school skirt for the girls uniform. It fit cutely with the one-size-too-big school sweater that Latvia had the misfortune of deciding to wear. After the brief photo shoot, Hungary dashed out to get her photos printed as Seychelles finished the job with a red hair ribbon she produced out of thin air.

"Seychelles-san…" Latvia mumbled, his face red in the mirror as Seychelles turned him around and around to make sure he was in tip top shape. "This is embarrassing…"

"Yes, maybe," Seychelles said, brushing off the complaint. "But I know Estonia will be looking at you _a lot_ today. You look so cute! You'll definitely get his attention today, I promise."

It was only that promise (that, and love makes you do stupid things) that helped him walk out of that classroom as if nothing was wrong, yes he was wearing a skirt and no, you may not flip it. Before he had gotten to homeroom, a second year, Prussia, was already dogging on behind him. Latvia had noticed Prussia watching him before with the look of a stalker and now it was on full force as he walked around in that god-awful skirt and those girly knee socks.

"So Latvia…" Prussia was saying behind him as Latvia did his best to ignore him. "What are you doing after school today? Can I walk you home?"

"Eh? Latvia! You're in a skirt today!" Feliciano bounded up to him, saving him from Prussia by pulling him away. "You look so cute! Oh, I knew I should have worn a skirt for our class's café too! I mean, Germany promised he'd come to see me, but oh well…oh, I know! I'll ask to exchange outfits with Romano! Guess what! His class made him wear a French maid outfit! Or really, his Spanish class did. Look!"

Latvia peeked into the classroom Feliciano was gesturing in and sure enough, Feliciano's twin brother was decked in a black, lacey, frilly outfit with a white apron and he was already fuming as Spain came up to him, very red-faced, and told him he looked nice. For a moment, Latvia was glad he was not in Romano's position.

"Latvia…you actually wore a skirt today."

Then again, maybe not. Latvia almost leapt over Feliciano in an attempt to escape but Feliciano had a rather iron grip on his wrist as the younger twin looked beyond Latvia. "Ah, Estonia-san! Hello! Are you coming to our café today?"

"I was actually rounding up the student council members, but perhaps." Estonia turned his attention at Latvia, who was attempting to cover himself with his hands. "Come on, Latvia. America wants us to all congregate in the student council room and so some team building activity before everything."

"A-ah, right." Glancing nervously at Feliciano, who gave him a small but knowing nod, Latvia slowly followed Estonia. Skirting (no pun intended) around Estonia to dodge being spotted by anyone else, Latvia found hiding in Estonia's shadow didn't amount to much. Not when he felt a strange little breeze and realized Prussia had snuck up behind him and lifted his skirt to take a peek.

"Teddy bear panties?" he mused loudly, enough for the whole hall to hear. Pulling the skirt down, Latvia blushed a brilliant shade of red. When had Hungary taken his boxers and replaced them with that?! Prussia, sporting an equal flush on his face, grinned and straightened up.

"Hey, Latvia," he began, before Latvia felt a hand grab his wrist and pull him along.

"Come on, Latvia," Estonia said quickly, urging him forward. "America's not going to be happy to know we're late." Latvia hurried forward, grateful for this quick save, pretending he didn't see Prussia's disappointed face.

It wasn't much better at the student council room. France had basically tried to seize the skirt off him, and when France finally backed down, Latvia turned to see America reaching for that pleated self-confidence stealer. Realizing he had been set up for trouble nowhere he went, he leaned against the wall, his hands firm against the hem of the skirt. Seychelles looked thrilled.

"So, so!" she said happily. "Let's do this thing!"

When the student council door was finally opened to the public, there was a flood of upperclassmen who wanted to have a peek of the cross-dressing first year. Latvia had a feeling Prussia had something to do with this. Spotting the silver-haired second year in the crowd, he started inching toward the window, ready to jump out, when Estonia grabbed his hand.

"This way."

Before Latvia could so much as stammer out the observation that Estonia was holding his hand (_his!_ Dear gods, _his hand_!), the older student had pulled him out of the room and was quickly walking to the vacant teacher's lounge. The teachers had gone off to their respective homerooms and anyway, Estonia was welcome in there as the treasurer. Sliding the door behind them, Estonia turned to Latvia, who stared down at the floor sheepishly.

"I'm sorry…"

"So…why did you actually agree to wearing something like that?" Estonia looked interested, leaning against the door to make sure no one came in (or was it the other way around?).

"W-well…Hungary took my clothes and they grabbed me so suddenly…and…well…"

"You could have gotten your PE clothes, couldn't you?"

"Y-yeah…I guess…" It hadn't even crossed his mind, and anyway Seychelles had said Estonia would notice so…

"Did you wear it so someone you liked would see?"

Latvia's head shot up in shock, before looking away. It was an innocent question and Estonia didn't know anything about it anyway. He didn't really want to answer the question but Estonia was staring at him so he nodded slowly. "I-I guess you could s-say that…"

There was an exhale and Latvia couldn't tell if Estonia had laughed. "Well…" the second year said after a pause, "I bet he or she has heard about you, even if he or she hasn't seen you, so it's good, I guess."

"He," Latvia said, correcting him. As Estonia raised his eyebrow, Latvia played with a loose thread on his sweater. "_He_. Yeah. I h-hope he l-likes it…" He looked up shyly at Estonia with a small smile before his indigo eyes darted back to the floor.

Before Estonia could reply, there was a pounding on the door. "Eh! Money-man!" someone called from behind the door; Latvia recognized the haughty voice of Prussia. "Don't keep the first year all to yourself!"

"Estonia!!" America called. "We're supposed to give our presentation!"

The sliding door gave a lurch and Estonia crossed the room with one swift motion, grabbing Latvia in the process. As the door slid open and a wave (consisting of Prussia and his minions, Hungary and her lackeys, and America and most of the student council save Japan and England) of students flooded into the teacher's lounge. Clicking his tongue, Estonia undid the window's latch in one quick flick of the wrist and opened it, boosting himself onto the ledge.

Before Prussia could make his way toward him or before Latvia realized what was going to happen next, Estonia leapt from the ledge, keeping a firm grip on the panicked first year. Giving a surprised squeal, Latvia grabbed onto Estonia as they landed onto the ground a story below.

No, he hadn't wanted to be in the student council the first place.

But if the student council could put him in Estonia's arms like this…

Well, maybe he didn't exactly mind.

Owari

--

Note: FORGIVE ME DEAR READERS!! I have not had a steady access to the internet in forever, it seems, due to some malicious virus on my computer! I apologize for this delay in updating! And I apologize for the upcoming lapse of updates! I will be visiting a place for a whole month where I can only hope to peek at the internet! So rest assured I will be taking some sort of break (heh, a fanfic author never takes breaks) but I will hopefully resume in August. Hopefully, again, this will not be the last time you hear from me, for I will try to update as much as possible with stories in the next week. Next up will be a sort of sequel to this…however, from a onesided Prussia/Latvia point of view! Review, they keep me going! Like Redbull!


	6. No Contest

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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As if the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

It didn't start with the skirt.

But it damn well took off because of it.

Let the record show that Prussia, honest-to-goodness bucket of awesomeness second year Prussia, had liked _and_ realized his feelings for first year Latvia _way_ earlier than that glasses nerd in his homeroom Estonia did. He just didn't do anything about it. After all, if he did something whenever he felt something for someone…it always ended up falling flat.

Case 1: Hungary. He'd liked that pretty brunette the first moment he set eyes on her. Love at first sight, maybe. So what if she was one year older than him? So what? If you took hold of something, you didn't let go! He wasn't going to admit that he had been inspired by America's antics with England (because he wasn't, how unoriginal and un-awesome), but a few days after America and England were confirmed as a couple, he approached Hungary.

"Ah, Hungary, how are you today? May I ask you something?"

Hungary, who had been poised outside on an overturned bucket with her camera lens pointing to someone/something inside a classroom, turned to look at Prussia, a look of utter exasperation at being interrupted on her face. "Yes, what do you want?" she asked rather snarky, but Prussia quickly barreled over that.

"I wanted to ask," Prussia continued, looking as charming as possible because he never faltered at things like this, "is if you'd like to go out with me sometime?"

Hungary stared at him for a moment. "Are you bringing a friend with you?"

Prussia blinked, confusing clouding his auburn eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, a guy friend. To make out with."

There was a beat, almost comical. "No."

"Oh. Then I'm not interested." She turned back to look through her camera, still grinning as Prussia continued to stare at her. He wouldn't mind bringing someone with him if he could go on a date with Hungary, but if the only person he would be getting something with would be said friend as Hungary watched, it was a no go.

Case 2: Austria. Prussia wasn't a 'If-I-can't-get-you-I'll-bang-your-best-friend' kind of guy, but after Hungary turned him down, he had blamed her closest guy friend: Austria. Sure, he'd held a bit of a grudge against him (along with Spain and France – Spain had been shouted at for interrupting one of his piano practices and France had been turned down when the then-second year hit on him), but when the end of his first year, Prussia swore something changed.

Austria was looking more date-able and date-able as the days passed and it was definitely not because Hungary wanted some boy-on-boy action to satisfy her. He had been skeptical to make a move after his result with Hungary, but Austria really had no reason to turn him down so harshly. And what was wrong with dating someone older than you (again, no reference to America)? Taking a deep breath, Prussia burst in on Austria, meticulously practicing his piano yet again.

"Austria!" Prussia announced. "Will you go out with me?"

The glare that Austria gave him burst through pre-established heights. "First of all," he said, his fingers poised above the keys, "normal people would knock before entering so rudely. Have you no manners? Just because you're a first year does not mean manners are wasted on you. Second of all, I am not interested in you in the slightest, Prussia-san, but I thank you for your intentions." With that, he burst out in a piece that if piano playing could kill, Prussia would be six feet under.

So he struck out again, not even six months after his first try.

Case 3: Latvia. The beginning of his second year, Prussia swore he was over with romance or at least scoring in the slightest. He was going to enjoy his high school career properly with pranks on the teachers, bullying the first years, and basically blowing off his education. Like everyone other normal student. He tried to get his old gang, the Bad Trio as some referred to them as, to help him in his stunts, but Spain was too busy playing with his own first year (quite adorable, Prussia noted, but Spain would rip his eyes out if he so much as talked to Romano) and France was trying to get serious with America's brother, whatever his name was. It was okay; he had the rest of the male population to play with and when tacks on seats and burning homework became boring, he could always flip skirts.

Screwing with the teachers became boring so he decided to turn his sights on the fearful first years. They were always fun to mess with. He had kept a look out on which ones to terrorize when he spotted Latvia.

He had just reigned his heart back in, scolded it and told it that if it wandered off again, he would make sure it would be sorry…when he lost it yet again.

Prussia wasn't very sure why he fell for Latvia in the first place. The first year wasn't headstrong and fierce like Hungary or sophisticated and mysterious like Austria. Not to mention it was unusual that he fell for someone younger than him this time. But it had to be the eyes; those beautiful violet eyes always shimmering with unshed tears and that adorable hesitation…

Yes, he was going to make _this_ one work out! He would take this slow and he wouldn't jump the boy the first chance he got!

But damn, it was hard to get the boy alone when Latvia was always spending time in the shadows of the student council (which, damn him, America was rounding up). He settled for staring shamelessly at the fidgety first year during PE (he'd skipped so many times during his first year that he was required to retake the class his second year). And then (be still, beating heart!) out of nowhere, Latvia actually went up to him and talked to him!

"Ah…um…P-Prussia-san? I don't know what's wrong…but why are you always staring at me? Am I bothering you?"

Bothering? In the hot and bothered sense, _yes_! In the annoying and tiresome sense, no! But how to say this without saying, "Yes, I can't get enough of you in those shorts,"? No, he would play this out skillfully. He would have his pride.

"It's nothing. You're just so cute, that's it." Hey, he never said he wasn't going to be flirtatious. It wasn't the same as proposing. Nevertheless, Latvia looked terrified and scampered away. _He's just playing hard to get_, Prussia thought confidently. _I've got this one in the bag_.

But for all the staring and observation, he learned of something else. Latvia was interested in someone, a second year, but for all his hopes, it wasn't him.

Of all people, it was the only nerd who got an A+ in AP Calculus. Estonia, that annoying smart brat that sat next to him in homeroom and refused to let him copy his homework! Of all people!

He had been wrong before, but Prussia couldn't deny the longing in those violet eyes (that should have been directed toward his awesome being) whenever Estonia passed the first year. It boiled Prussia's blood. He wasn't exactly a 'confrontational' kind of person (really, he wasn't!), and he didn't want to mess this up, so he decided to play it safe, sit back, and hope for the best.

Then Latvia came to school in that mind-blowing _skirt_.

Well, his careful plan was blown out of the water. He couldn't help it. The skirt was like a beacon and he was a mosquito. Latvia worked it like a model. God, that _ass_…Prussia couldn't stop himself. He flipped it.

He could never look at teddy bears the same without getting a massive nosebleed.

But it was like clockwork; the moment he tried to get close again, Latvia floated through his fingers again. When he tried to talk to the first year, Latvia would always answer quickly before scampering away. Latvia was always somewhere where Prussia wasn't. It became almost like a hide-and-seek kind of game in the halls, with Latvia gone by the time Prussia spotted that head of golden hair.

Then last week, Estonia asked Latvia out and Latvia had said yes.

He wasn't a moper. No, he was just tired. So tired he had to cut class and lean against the chain fence on the roof (there to dissuade suicidal students). He even groaned aloud for emphasis.

"What's gotten your boxers in a knot?"

Prussia turned tiredly to see Hungary walking up to him with a smile and a camera. He didn't bother making a face as she raised the camera up to his face and took a shot. Frowning, she lowered her silver Nikon before straightening her blue school skirt and sat down on the bench next to him. "You're skipping class, Prussia-san."

"You are too."

"Contrary, I'm in my Photo class." She grinned and held up her camera. "But honestly, all I've seen of you is doom and gloom. What's wrong? Did you ask someone else out again? I told you, I was fine with you just if you'd be fine with someone else…"

"That's exactly it. I blew it again."

Hungary stared at him. "With whom?"

Prussia chuckled. How ironic was it that Hungary was asking him the question when she had helped to bring about this fail with Latvia? "I thought it was obvious," he said ruefully.

"Eh? With little Latvia-chan?" Hungary's hand flew to her mouth. Regaining her poise again, she clicked through her camera and held it up next to Prussia, cocking her head. Prussia figured she was trying to see if he looked right with Latvia. She scrolled through more of her photos and looked up at Prussia again with a frown.

"Well…I guess…you guys _could_ have been cute together…but he liked Estonia. It wouldn't have worked out."

"I guess," Prussia sighed, staring lazily out over the school grounds. "What am I going to do? I'm destined to be a one-man show."

"What about your step brother Germany?"

"What about him? He's got a lot of people to play with. Like that little twin of his…Italy. Germany's different," Prussia finalized. "I've burned too many bridges for anything to work out."

"Don't be so down on yourself," Hungary mused, still scrolling through her gallery on her camera. "There are still a lot of birds in the sky and you know high school flings don't always work out."

"Are you saying you don't think Estonia and Latvia are gonna stay together?"

"I never said that."

"Well, of course you didn't. Since you got them together."

"Did I?" Hungary asked, modestly, although the look of utter pride on her face couldn't be mistaken. She shrugged as he leaned back, letting the sun reach all shadows of her face. "I'm sorry I didn't know about or I wouldn't have taken such drastic measures…love triangles do make the best photos, after all…but it would have happened regardless." She stared at Prussia, who still looked dejected. "You'll get over it. After all, you got over me and Austria, didn't you?"

"I guess." Prussia stared at Hungary for a moment back. "Wanna make out?"

Hungary shook her head. "You can't read the atmosphere, can you?" She stood up and took her camera with her. "Rest assured, dear Prussia-san, if Latvia were to become single again, I'll filter him your way." Smiling satisfactedly to herself, Hungary turned on her heel and made her way off the roof.

"Thanks…I guess." Prussia sighed to himself when he noticed that Hungary had left a photo behind on the bench. Picking it up, he noticed it was a rather compromising picture of Latvia in that skirt. Willing himself not to nosebleed, Prussia turned it over to see a small note written on the back.

_Cheer up, albino kraut. You'll always have the School Festival. And don't tell your brother I called you that! Less than three – Hungary_

"Bitch," Prussia muttered, although he grinned as he pocketed the photo. He wasn't sure about now, since he felt like he'd been stepped over about a million times with soccer cleats, but he was sure he'd get over it fairly quickly. He could come back from the dead after all.

And someone in his family had to smile and it sure wasn't going to be his grouchy little brother Germany.

Owari

--

Note: Whoo! Latest update in a while! This is sort of a filler for the previous chapter, a back story of sorts. After all, I couldn't let pervert Prussia just have a brief cameo last time. I sort of like this crack pairing actually. It makes no sense, has no political legitimacy, and yet sort of…clicks with you. The Austria/Hungary parts were a must as well. I actually wish I knew this AU Hungary I've created. I sort of like her. Next up is a sappy, angstful cavity inducing Greece/Japan. You have been warned. Review!


	7. The Cats

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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As If the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

He didn't know a lot of things, but there were a certain number of truths he was certain about.

His name was Greece. He was a third year.

He liked cats.

He also liked Japan.

He did not smoke _weed_.

He smoked _marijuana. _

Other than that, he was free to think or believe anything else, except those were just sacred facts that no one should or could question. Not that anyone really questioned to begin with; even as a first year, his classmates thought he was weird already when he constantly fell asleep in class; it wasn't because he stayed up the previous night studying or anything, and he really wasn't involved in substances yet – he was just tired. People also tended to stay away from him because he smelled like cats; could no one see that someone like him could possibly _like_ cats and could _own_ a cat or two? He supposed they thought he was a big guy, so he should like football or some sport like that. He didn't really mind sports, but they usually involved a lot of activity when he was just content staying in one place, napping or thinking deep thoughts.

He had been okay with spending the rest of his high school days doing nothing but lounging around in odd places (in his second year, he scared a bunch of first years while they were getting equipment for their club when they discovered him sleeping on said equipment) when something absolutely dreadful happened.

Both his cats, Athens and Sparta, died of old age overnight and he woke to discover both cats, in mid scratch, lying lifeless outside in the corner of the elaborate garden his mother had planted a few years ago.

This had been at the end of his second year, but the change was instantaneous. Grieved at the absence of his cats, Greece continued showing up in strange places smelling strange and very red-eyed. This was the beginning of the rumors that he was abusing substances (in his defense, maybe he shouldn't have burned incense and held rituals for his cats during school).

Being a third year this year, he really should have held more respect, but as the rest of his class preferred to stay away from him, the rest of the grades followed suit. Greece didn't mind, as many of his classmates tended to talk about trivial things and he would much rather stay alone and think than listen to innate ramblings about various pieces of gossip. It didn't help that his age-old rival, a fellow third year named Turkey, liked to bother him by showing up where he frequented, badgering him about how much he spent on crack. So he found solace on the roof, where Turkey hated to be (something about the sun reflecting off the weird white masquerade mask – in dress code, surprisingly – he always wore and blinding him).

One day earlier in the year, Greece was about to doze off when a shadow obstructed the sunlight that was currently warming his face. Cracking open a tired eye, he noticed a second year walking over to him, rather hesitantly. Sitting up and yawning, Greece tried to make himself look presentable but he knew his hair was a mess and his school shirt was already wrinkled and who really cared since he was older anyway? He turned with tired eyes toward the visitor, whom he didn't quite recognize. He must have been a new second year.

"Hi. I'm Japan. I'm a second year and I'm new here." Japan gulped, obviously nervous about being there. "Um…I heard that you smoke marijuana?"

Oh. Yes. He remembered where he vaguely saw this person before. There was a student council get-to-know-another function once after school and while he was gathering his things to go, he saw this student walk into the student council room. Was Japan trying to bust him for illegal activity on school campus?

Not feeling the need to explain himself (not that he was doing anything wrong, mind you), Greece shrugged. "Yeah, so?" Knowing he might get in trouble, he decided to go the fastest route: disagreeing would mean he would have to prove himself so he may as well give him what he wanted to hear. Japan didn't seem too thrilled to be here confronting him anyway.

"Ah. Oh. Well…um…I don't know about how you get it…but…my father runs a pharmaceutical and he gets doses of that for medical purposes…um…I guess what I'm saying is…I could get some for you, if you'd like."

Greece stared at him and against his nature, his jaw fell open.

Well, why the hell not?

They had agreed to meet a few days later, same place, same time. Japan looked so out of place doing something illegal, wearing his school uniform exactly in dress code. Greece had been polite and brought his own lighter (with prints of cats, don't laugh). He didn't even know his kid and somehow he was okay with smoking with him? Sometimes he didn't even know how his own mind worked.

Japan rolled the joint as if he were a pro (Greece figured he'd know how, since he'd probably seen his father do it before), although the third year noticed the former's fingers were shaking. Holding up the perfectly rolled joint, Japan handed it over, looking expectantly at Greece. The curly haired senior took it, inspecting it slightly, before lighting it and bringing it to his mouth.

He never coughed so hard in his life.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! It's not like street form, is it? I mean, it _is_ for medical purposes, after all…is it that bad? There's only one form it comes in for my dad, so it's not like it's mixed…I don't know if you smoke that kind of stuff…I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have offered…I don't even really know what I'm doing…" Japan was starting to go off on an undistinguishable tangent when Greece finished his coughing fit and held up a hand.

"It's no problem," he wheezed. "I've never smoked before in my life."

Japan's eyes grew wide. "Then you shouldn't have done that! Starting with that…what have I done?!" His face, which was already pale to begin with, drained of color and he looked like a verge away from a panic attack when Greece shook his head, bringing the joint up to his lips again.

"I don't mind…I'm getting used to it," he lied, coughing slightly.

"No, no, no…_what have I don_e_?_ First I stole this from my dad's lab and now I've given to you and _then_ you tell me you've never done the stuff before?" Truly, Japan looked close to committing suicide in shame but Greece grabbed his wrist before he could do something drastic, like stab himself with a pencil.

"I'm fine, really." Greece took another puff and exhaled skillfully, as if he hadn't been choking on his breath just moments before. Japan still looked skeptical, looking antsy.

"But if I get you addicted…that'd just be horrible! I thought it wouldn't matter if you were already smoking it…but what _was _I thinking? Smoking marijuana is bad to begin with! What was I thinking…" Japan trailed off, smacking his palm against his forehead.

Greece watched him amusedly. He was getting used to this stuff. He was feeling more lightheaded than usual…_right_! Aristotle was starting to make more sense! "What made you talk to me in the first place?" he asked between breaths. "I didn't think anyone wanted to talk to me."

"Eh?" Japan took his hands from his face, blinking. "Well…it's just…personal, I guess."

"How so?"

Japan was silent for a moment before blurting out. "It's just…I've been a meticulous student all the way up until now and then my parents send me here because it's the best school in the area and I don't have a problem with that…I like learning…but it's just…I haven't really done anything dangerous. I've heard the saying you've got to grab life by the horns or something like that but I've been walking on the sidewalk all this time and I just wanted to do something…you know…dangerous. Something against the law. I wanted to know what I feels like. And then I heard that you do drugs on the roof, and since I'm new and I don't have a lot of friends yet…I thought I could stick it to the man by being friends with you." He hung his head. "It's a rotten reason. I'm sorry."

Greece exhaled. "I get what you're saying. It's like a bunch of lemmings rushing toward a cliff and you want to be the lemming that just sits back and goes the other way for once."

"Right!" Japan smiled at this analogy before his face fell again. "But…don't you think it's horrible that I'm using you to prove something to myself? It's pretty bad to me…"

"I think the point is that you feel bad about it." Greece looked at the joint in his hand, which was smoked out. Putting out the butt on the ground before pocketing it (he didn't think it would be right to litter and litter with a joint no less). "We can still be friends, though. I'll just happen to be a pot smoker then."

Japan hesitated.

Greece shook his head. "Forget about it. If you don't want to be friends, you can be my dealer than."

"I can't get you addicted. It wouldn't be right."

"Then don't."

Japan still seemed doubtful, but as he didn't have any other opinion, agreed when Greece suggested they meet here once or twice a week. Once or twice became every day after they finally managed to talk about something other than drugs. Japan was true to his word that he wouldn't get Greece addicted; he brought only small doses in exact amounts and didn't bring any on Tuesdays. Since Japan was also one to stay to himself, the rumors flew around that he and Greece smoked together, although the second year didn't touch any of the drugs he took.

When Greece told Japan about Athens and Sparta and their unfortunate death, the second year had scooted over to him and sat closer to him comfortingly (Japan wasn't the touchy comforting kind of person). Still, Greece leaned closer – Japan flushed but didn't move – and smelled something familiar.

Japan smelled like…cats.

"You smell like cats."

"Oh? Sorry. I have a bunch of them back at home."

A _bunch_? "As in…how many…?"

"Oh, I don't know…a couple dozen. My mother has time to take care of all them." He watched Greece, whose eyes were glittering despite himself. "If you'd like," Japan said, with a small smile, "I could lend you a few. I don't mind and I don't think they'd mind either."

Could he?! When Greece visited to pick up his dozen cats or so, he discovered that Japan lived in that big house around the corner that he stared at every time he passed. There were a bunch of rich kids attending UN High – a prestigious private school – but Greece didn't think he'd know one of them himself. He preferred to stay to himself or with the people who had gotten scholarships or some other way in (his mother had known Principal Rome and some strings were pulled).

"Please don't mind the house," Japan said quickly. He picked up a ginger tabby and handed it to Greece. "I think you can take Nagasaki…she's old but she's very friendly…" He continued scooping up random cats off the floor and heaping them into Greece's arms. By the time they reached the front door again, Greece found himself the temporary owner to at least a dozen so cats. "Please take good care of them," Japan said, bowing slightly. "If you have any problems with them, please tell me."

That night, it was like sleeping with Athens and Sparta again…except with ten more cats. It was heaven.

It was a strange thing, to become friends over something like pot, but smoking pot in itself was strange. Greece didn't have anything to worry about.

The carefully regulated doses and planned intake caused a low dependency on Greece's part to the drugs. In fact, the high he got was lessening (and he hoped he wouldn't have to have medical marijuana in the future or else it wouldn't work anymore). His head only got a faint buzz now afterwards so he heard Japan loud and clear when the quiet second year murmured, "I like you a lot, Greece."

Greece exhaled.

"I mean, more than a friend." Japan was hugging his knees so his voice came out muffled but Greece heard him all the same. "It's pitiful, isn't it? Now I'm using the drugs to get closer to you. I can't do anything without the help of a catalyst. There. I said it." He glanced at Greece, half hoping that the third year hadn't heard him but was shocked to see that the latter had heard him and was now staring back at him. Feeling a fierce blush attack his face, he attempted to hide his face. "Forget I said anything. It's weird enough I'm your dealer and the least you want is a confession. I didn't say anything. I don't expect you to like me back the same way. I…"

Lips crashed onto his before he could finish his apology. The joint was left forgotten, smoldering slowly on the roof as Greece leaned Japan back further to get more access to the deeper parts of the latter's mouth. The second year was unresponding until, still connected by the mouth, Greece took Japan's arms and wrapped them around his neck. The motion seemed to jolt Japan back to reality and he broke away, taking breaths as he lay on his back with Greece hovering over him. What a time to be caught, a student council member showing inappropriate PDA on school grounds.

"You…" Japan said breathlessly, as Greece stared down at him. "I'm sorry, but you need a breath mint. I can taste the smoke."

"Oh. Sorry." Greece made a mental note to keep breath mints in his pockets at all times.

Turkey, of course, didn't make things easier. "Hey, Greece! Don't tell me I didn't tell you, but it's not good to mix business and personal affairs."

"What are you talking about?" Greece asked, shooting a 'shut-up-I-hate-you' glare at the masked third year, who completely ignored him. Turkey had decided to sit next to him during study hall and badgering him about life in general. The noisy teen shook his head, as if Greece was a first grader who needed to be taught the world.

"_Hello_, Greece! Japan is obviously either your dealer or something (at least that's what everyone says), so you should not be sleeping with him!"

"I never said I was," Greece insisted, trying to focus on his rough draft of his Catcher in the Rye essay. Maybe he if pretended Turkey didn't exist, the other would get the message and lay off. No such luck.

"Everyone can tell. No one just says anything since Japan's in the student council. But everyone suspects. Really! The two of you disappear off during school and come back looking disheveled! What would you think?"

Just because they were making out on the roof did not mean something like that…

"Don't you have your own problems to deal with?" Greece interrupted, ready to throttle Turkey if he didn't shut up. His masked classmate stared back.

"I guess I could get out of your hair for once and go back to attending my problem with Egypt," he said slowly, watching Greece glower at him, "but what' the fun in that?!"

The detention was well worth punching Turkey square in the face. He'd actually knocked him out cold. After Japan had told him afterwards that it had not been a good idea, even the second year admitted he had been impressed.

It was about that time when Greece, despite his appearance of being rather lackadaisical, noticed that something was amiss.

Japan, who had never really been one to run his mouth, seemed more withdrawn than usual, even when they sat together on the roof. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered Greece too much but he was noticing that the boy was spending more and more time alone, even when surrounded by the rowdy student council. Perhaps something had happened and Greece didn't feel it was in his place to pry into the depths of Japan's personal life, even if they were involved in each other.

He was willing to turn a blind eye but the next piece of evidence was too blatant to ignore.

"You've been bringing less and less every time," Greece noticed aloud, staring down at the joint Japan had just rolled for him. The second year jumped and suddenly became flustered, nearly dropping the joint on the ground. "It's just your imagination; it's the same as before…"

"No, it's not. I watch you do this all the time. You're bringing less every time. What's wrong?"

Japan looked down, fiddling with the joint as he did so with lack of anything else to do. "I'm trying to get you off the stuff."

"You're leaving."

Japan looked up, startled. "How…?"

"I can tell." Taking the joint from Japan's fingers, Greece lighted it. "I can quit cold turkey, I think. You didn't have to do this. I know you're too careful to be caught and if your father works with the stuff, he shouldn't have a low supply – therefore, you're doing it deliberately. It wasn't too hard to figure out. Where are you going?"

Japan gulped. "Far. Almost across the country. For my dad's work. He's been relocated to another lab. I'm leaving by the end of the month. I'm sorry. I should have told you." He hung his head as Greece exhaled slowly. "I was going to…but I didn't want anything to happen between us just yet."

"Do you always do things like this? Move around a lot, I mean?"

"Yeah. I haven't stayed in one place for more than a couple years. I don't really make a lot of friends."

"Did you like it here?" The joint was all used up and Greece watched it smolder slowly, the smoke disappearing as it climbed higher and higher.

"Yes."

"You're not coming back."

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not." There was a brief silence and the bell rang to signal the end of lunch but neither moved. "Why…I mean," Japan started, sounding unsure, "you're not…you don't have a problem with it?"

"No, I still want you here, but what can I do about it?" Greece cleared his throat, trying to shake the soft fuzz from his brain. "I can't make you stay here so selfishly if your parents want you to go."

"I'll miss this place," Japan interrupted, cutting Greece short. "I'll miss the little Asian group I hang out with. I'll miss the teachers who don't know what to do with me. I'll even miss the student council, everyone of them – even France but not so much." He chuckled awkwardly. "I'll miss you," he added after a pause, his voice quiet.

Japan was not a crier, thank goodness. Greece didn't know what he would have done if Japan had started crying. He couldn't handle sobby girls and he would have definitely had trouble trying to stop tears. But Japan didn't cry, or even look close to it; he just stared sadly at Greece.

"Don't talk like that," Greece said quickly, feeling the mood darken. He hated dark moods. He was a sunny, nap-outside kind of person. Depressing atmospheres made him stay up sleepless nights and one night without rest was severely detrimental to his health and sanity. "I'm sure we'll crash somewhere somehow. I don't know yet if I'm going to university, but your dad's kind of famous so I'll stalk you. I'll use Google."

Japan smiled, a small curve to his mouth. "And when I wake up one night, you'll be climbing through my window to attack me?"

"Attacking might not be the correct word…"

They had completely skipped one whole period and as they were climbing down from the roof, Japan turned to Greece again, looking awkward again. "I know you've become rather attached to them…but…I'm going to have to have my cats back. They originally belonged to my mother and she wants them all to be around when we move. Sorry."

When Greece returned home, he scooped all twelve cats up in one armful (the sleeping ones awakened quite violently, to his dismay). It was so strange. Cats were now reminding him of Japan. Japan usually had after school activities, so he spent most of his time with the cats. Now that Japan was gone, and taking his cats with him, what did he have left?

--

He was gone and he took the cats with him. The student council was still reeling through the dregs of the farewell party, with America still sobbing rather loudly and publicly much to Japan's embarrassment. As for Greece, things were settling back into the mundane existence he had before, Turkey still hounding him and crooning annoying breakup songs. Again, he found himself on the roof, settling down for another lunchtime nap.

"_Here. I've got all the cats, I think."_

_Japan took all the cats back in one armful (surprisingly to Greece, as he didn't think the noticeably smaller boy could hold so much) before looking up at him again. "Thank you for taking such good care of them."_

"_It was no trouble at all."_

_He spent another awkward moment standing on the doorstep. This was not the moment for an invitation inside or a dramatic farewell scene. Japan let the cats crawl about him before letting them down. "I really am sorry to be leaving you, Greece. Are you sure you'll be okay without…you know?"_

"_I'll be fine."_

"_Alright." Japan shifted on his feet and Greece was sensing now was the time to leave. "Well, I'll be going then," he announced, but Japan grabbed him back._

"_We'll see each other again, right?"_

"_I think so." At this, Japan beamed before leaning up to kiss him quickly on the cheek, an outrageously out-of-character move for the second year. Greece blinked in surprise as Japan straightened up, his face a charming pink._

"_Then this isn't goodbye, Greece. I'll see you later."_

Greece had already slipped off to sleep before he was aware of it.

Owari

--

Note: This is probably all wrong. I don't know my drugs enough to know if this is plausible. I apologize if it is totally impossible. But this is MY AU world, so in it, it IS possible! Is that Turkey/Egypt I see, you ask? Yes…it is! However, that chapter isn't coming for a while, so hold your pants on. Enjoy a highly impossible Greece/Japan angst, babies! I felt like this pairing called for a little angst.

So here's the deal. If you read Of Seamen and Landlubbers or The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking, you should know: I have accidentally deleted three prewritten chapters of Seamen and the first part of the third chapter of Pros and Cons. I mean, the originals are GONE. Vanished into my computer where I cannot get them back. Yes, I nearly broke down myself. Therefore, I have been assigned the dubious task of rewriting them! I had a backup for all of them, but they are a month old and I have written much past that point. But never fear! They will be written! Thank you for sticking with me! It has been a difficult journey. REVIEW!!!

Edit: I forgot to say who the next pairing is! Sorry, all. It's SuFin.


	8. A Little Late

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

--

As If the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

They had been friends for a while – they first met during their first year at UN, that is. It had been an unusual friendship: the year's scariest looking student with the year's sweetest. Some accredited it to Sweden probably intimidating Finland until they were friends. Further more suspected that perhaps Finland had done something to annoy Sweden and he was only around like a prisoner of war. Ones who were closer to the two would confidently explain, however, that they became friends by the most mundane reason.

They had just happened to be sitting next to each other in the back of homeroom.

Both were new additions to the class as opposed to those who had moved up from the junior high school part of UN. Therefore, it was normal for the two to sit by themselves until homeroom started. As forementioned, they were in the two seats in the back of the classroom – Finland was smiling to himself, ready to start the school year on a positive note while Sweden was staring vacantly out the window, looking like a complete loner.

The two probably would not have even exchanged greetings if two arguing classmates had not taken their fight to the back of the room.

"And _I'm_ telling you, my dear England, that you really shouldn't get your hopes up trying to run for student council president. Who would ever want to be ordered around by someone with such a stuffed head such as yourself?"

"I'm telling you France, first I'm going to murder you in an extremely painful way before making you eat your words, you bloody wanker."

They had fussed and shouted their way past a bored-looking curly haired Spanish student, past a serious, scowling blonde named Germany, and made their way to the back, where they would be able to attack each other without drawing _too_ much attention to themselves. As France continued backing up in order to avoid England's wrath, he bumped into Finland's desk _hard_, knocking all the books on it onto the floor.

"See what you did, you git? You just messed up that kid's desk."

"Did I? Only because you made me." France turned briefly to Finland, who was quickly trying to retrieve his books. "Sorry, dear. That comes from England."

"You useless sod!"

As Finland continued picking up all the books that had fallen, he looked up to see his neighbor had taken some of the textbooks that had dropped and was handing them to him. There was a look of apathy on his face and Finland merely stared at him.

"Your books," Sweden said, revealing a deep, husky voice. Finland started and quickly reached for them. "I'm sorry, I must have been lost in thought just now. Thank you so much. You're new too, right? I'm Finland."

"You talk a lot."

"Oh!" Finland shook his head quickly. "I just thought…I mean…I was only trying to be friendly…because you helped me…if you want, I'll leave you alone, I only thought…"

"It's okay."

"I mean, I'm new, so I don't know a lot of people yet, so I thought…I don't know…maybe we could be friends? Well…I guess helping someone out doesn't mean they're suddenly friends but I guess…I don't know your name yet, so maybe I'm just overthinking everything don't mind me…" Finland was running his mouth as England and France fought in the corner. Sweden gave him a look.

"Sweden."

"Pardon?"

"My name. Sweden."

"Oh! Oh, yes! Hi, Sweden. Like I said, I'm new. Are you new too? I thought that since maybe you weren't talking to anyone…not that there's any problem with that if you've come up from the middle school! That's totally cool, I was just wondering…"

"I'm new."

"Oh. Okay. Then we can stick together. Because I kind of don't know where to go. My schedule said I have physics first period and they say I'm supposed to go to this lab place but I don't know where that is so I'm sort of in a rut. What class do you have first?"

"You talk a lot."

"Oh! Sorry, sorry!" Finland looked down apologetically before saying sheepishly, "I tend to talk a lot when I'm nervous."

"What're you nervous about?"

"Um…everything." Sweden looked over this boy from behind his glasses, from the haphazardly combed sandy hair to the earnest violet eyes staring at the ground. Everything about this classmate screamed anxiety.

"Don't be scared."

"Huh? Oh, I'm not scared of you. I mean, yes, you're a little intimidating but…" Finland trailed off as Sweden stared silently at him. "Oh…you meant about everything else." Giving the stoic fellow first year a look of terror, Finland quickly faced front again. "Um, I'll just get out of your hair now, Sweden. I'm digging myself into a deeper hole if I keep talking, so it would just be best if I just shut up now."

"I don't mind." Finland gave him a look of gratitude as the homeroom teacher rushed in, calling for order as England cackled, readying to smash a world globe over France's head. To no one's surprise, homeroom had been a rather interesting start to the school year.

The rest of the day had been rather mundane in Sweden's opinion, save the time France had decided to come onto the teacher. Lunch came accordingly, and as Sweden got ready to eat by himself, Finland had rushed over to him. "Can I eat with you, Su-san?" Covering his mouth with a look of oops, Finland rushed into an apology. "Oh, I don't even know where that came from! I guess Su-san and Sweden sort of rhyme…it's a weird nickname, isn't it? I'm sorry! Sometimes my mind sort of goes off into tangents like that! I'm kind of weird like that! Sorry!"

"It's okay." Personally, Sweden thought it was sort of endearing to be called 'Su-san'. It fit Finland's mouth better, anyway; the boy sounded awkward calling him by his real name. The easily flustered boy seemed more natural using cute nicknames.

"Anyway," Finland said, scooting down next to him with a 'let's-get-over-that-shall-we?' smile. "How have classes been going for you, Sweden?"

"Su-san."

Finland blinked. "Su-san?" He waited for an explanation, but Sweden continued eating as if he hadn't said anything. "You want me to call you Su-san?" There was no acknowledgement, but if Finland was getting better at reading his new friend, this meant yes. "Alright then. How have classes been going for you, Su-san?"

"Fine."

At first, it had been awkward, Finland speaking most of the time, but as the year passed, it became natural for Finland to speak for the both of them with Sweden using his voice at random times. It became normal to see the two of them doing things together, like ordinary best friends. Finland got along quite well with everyone else, for all his worries, although Sweden kept mostly to himself. The situation had since become ignored by everyone else until they became second years, with the arrival of the new first years.

New first year A: Norway. Norway was Sweden's cousin, and Finland could sort of see the resemblance. Both had similar blank expressions as their default face and neither spoke unless spoken to. Norway had no problem being around second years, although despite the welcome, the first year usually headed toward the art room during his free time. The boy also had another friend, Iceland, who caused no trouble for anyone except the ones he hated. And boy, could Iceland hate.

New first year B: Denmark. Denmark had made himself well known, along with America, who established himself in the second years' lives with his advances at England. Finland considered him irrelevant, as neither he nor Sweden were close to England although the rumors were quite interesting. Denmark was a first year who was a wanna-be second year, skirting from the green-nosed first years and avoiding the 'old' third years. He had locked onto Finland, going from badgering him to trying to get in his pants. Sweden had been troubled at this attention but due to his nature of saying less, Finland was left to fend for himself as Sweden stared a curse at the noisy first year.

Then Norway came and scolded Denmark for Sweden and suddenly it was a different story.

New first year C: Hungary. Hungary had been a friendly-looking wide eyed first year. She had been wandering the halls with a camera and Finland had rushed up to her, ready to help her if she had been lost. As Sweden ambled up to them, Hungary had stared at the both of them with interest.

"Who's he?" she had asked.

"Oh this? He's Su-san…oh, I mean, Sweden. I just call him Su-san."

"Really? And are you two…you know…"

"Friends?"

"No. More than that." Hungary's eyes sparkled at the suggestion and Finland took a step back.

"It's nothing like that!" he insisted, glancing nervously at Sweden. "We're just friends!"

"But they say you two are inseparable," Hungary protested, as if if she complained enough, she'd have her way. "There's _got_ to be some sort of sexual tension going on there! Oh, or are you hiding your feelings for him behind the best friend façade? How tasty!" Giggling, she had held the camera up to her face and taken a few pictures before Sweden spoke up.

"Go away."

"Touchy," Hungary pouted, hurrying away. Her suggestion stayed in the air, though, as she became infamous for setting up various boy couples, going as far as to stray into suggesting that perhaps France and England were just showing pent-up sexual frustration – America had taken care of that.

And now their last year of UN had come around, faster than you can say "That was short, wasn't it Su-san?". Sweden had come around Finland's house, as the latter had worried himself into a rut wondering if he was really ready for the year coming up.

"We can't afford to just sit back this year, Su-san!" Finland shouted, standing in the middle of his room like a boxer in a ring. Sweden was sitting on his bed, watching silently as always.

"It's our last year, so we've got to grab the bull by the horns!" Finland continued, sounding confident in every word. "We've got to say what we've got to say this year! We can't just the year go by like the last two! We're going to join a bunch of clubs and we're going to be known by everyone else! We're going to get girlfriends too and we're going to end this last year right! Right, Su-san?"

Finland had looked expectantly at Sweden, and before the latter could reply, Finland had suddenly leaned forward and kissed his silent friend on the lips, full of feeling – almost like the boy himself. Sweden had been surprised, but as usual, didn't show too much of anything. Finland broke away, flushing bright pink.

"I'm sorry, Su-san, I don't know what happened! I just…I…you…we…" Finland's hands flew to his face. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that, it was extremely inappropriate…"

"It's okay." Sweden reached out and pulled Finland onto him, taking those small hands off the red face. "Don't mind." Leaning down, he kissed Finland, gently to take away the apprehension filling those violet eyes. Finland kissed back shyly, gingerly, wrapping his arms around Sweden's neck.

Finland's parents weren't going to be home for a while.

Sweden was quiet as he ran his hand through Finland's sweat soaked hair; the latter was curled up asleep next to him, barely covered by the sheets. He watched Finland's chest rise and fall with his breaths before sliding out of bed to find his pants.

Despite the fact that neither had told anyone about their change in relationship, everyone seemed to know on the first day of their third year. Hungary was on them like a predator to its prey.

"Hey, you two!" She had burst out and surprised them near the shoe cubbies, camera in hand. "So tell me, how long since summer has this thing been going on?"

"Um…what thing?" Finland glanced at Sweden and that was all the proof the second year fangirl needed.

"You two! You're an item now, right?" When the only response was a fiercely blushing Finland and (the usual) soundless Sweden, Hungary squealed. "I knew it! Anyone can just tell! It's very obvious, you know. New couples just give off that new couple smell."

Despite his better judgment, Sweden sniffed his sleeve.

"Congratulations! There were a lot of people waiting for this to happen. Hey, I'll take a picture to commemorate!" Holding the camera up, Hungary angled her lens before Sweden reached forward and covered it.

"No pictures," he said, feeling déjà vu from the first time they had met Hungary. She could be as nosy as the paparazzi.

Norway, surprisingly, also had something to say. He found them in homeroom before classes started and stared at them for a while. "So I guess that means you've done it."

Finland looked confused but Sweden had known his cousin long enough to know what he meant. "How would you know?" the taller third year asked.

Norway shrugged. "You two had three years to figure it out. That's a long time to keep up sexual tension."

And so the world (UN High, at least) offhandedly knew about Sweden and Finland and dared not make anything of it. Third year passed by soundlessly, with the usual ups and downs. Of course, the pair were much different from their other counterparts from other years, as they had an extra topic to worry about.

Entrance exams to university.

Finland rushed into the classroom during lunch, where Sweden was already situated and eating lunch while silently wondering where the former had gone. "Su-san," the smaller third year gushed, sliding into his seat, "I went to see the college councilor. I was telling him about how I wanted to be a social worker and he recommended Helsinki University in the north. He was also saying that I should broaden my horizons and look at places farther away. What do you think? Where do you want to go?"

Sweden considered. "Local," he said.

"You want to stay local?" There was a hint of disappointment in Finland's voice but it was quickly covered. "Well, there's no problem in that. I could come look at some with you, if you want. Isn't it exciting to visit universities?"

Days passed and Sweden was starting to entertain a notion he had been troubled with since the beginning of third year.

He visited Helsinki with Finland. The latter was very impressed with the campus and was friendly with all the teachers he met, but it didn't seem right to Sweden. It was a perfect people place for a people person like Finland. They left with conflicting thoughts (Sweden) and optimism (Finland).

They went to visit the some of the local universities as well. Finland seemed to fit in in those atmospheres as well. Granted, at the public universities, there were uncountable numbers of frat boys and party animals, but Finland was able to help Sweden navigate through the unsavory colleges and pick one that was right for the silent third year.

It went without saying that the two had picked different colleges in different directions.

Still, Finland showered Sweden with affection whatever chance he got. Sweden would be on cleaning duty when Finland would slip into the classroom and wrap his arms around the other's neck, smiling sweetly as their lips met. Valentine's Day (doomsday for every single couple in existence at UN, as Hungary went on a streak that day) came and past without relative discomfort and Finland's homemade chocolates were edible (Sweden suspected Finland was so sincere that he wasn't even looking at what he was mixing together). When White Day arrived, Sweden was a little concerned that he hadn't gotten anything for Finland when he decided to give the kid he had 'adopted' – a little first year named Sealand who followed him around and was determined to be his mentee.

The little nagging doubt hung around Sweden and he knew he had to do something about it.

"Finland." Honestly, it wasn't so unusual that one would approach a friend after school, but the way Finland and the other people around seemed to stare at him like he had grown an extra head just by speaking was uncalled for. He spoke! "My house. After school."

"I'm sorry, Su-san, but I can't today. I've got a club meeting. How about tomorrow? Why? What do you want to do?"

"Talk."

Finland blinked. "We can talk here, can't we?"

Sweden shook his head.

Finland quickly excused himself from the group he was talking to and pulled Sweden along the hallway until they ducked into an empty classroom. "Su-san, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just need to talk to you."

Finland looked concerned. "Are you upset? Did I do something wrong? Did something happen?"

"No. Just need to talk."

Finland sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sometimes you not talking makes me anxious…we can talk tomorrow, can't we? Or can this not wait?"

"It can wait."

"Okay." Finland looked up at Sweden, staring straight past the glasses into his blue eyes. "Su-san…you still…you still like me, right?" Finland was trying to look nonchalant, but Sweden could sense the uneasiness. It troubled him to think this was the reason Finland was worried.

"No. I still like you." And he meant it. Just as he meant to wrap his arms around Finland's waist and pull him close. The other smiled at the contact and placed a fast kiss on Sweden's lips before struggling. "But really, Su-san, I've got a club meeting to go to. I'm so sorry!"

It was okay. It left him more time to figure out how to say it.

--

"Su-san! I'm really worried about the entrance exams!" Finland was sitting next to Sweden in the latter's room the next afternoon, fretting over the many textbooks open in front of them. "I mean, I studied and everything but I don't want to fail them! I heard from England that he's been skipping student council to study and recommended I summon a focus spirit. He told me how. Do you think I should?"

Sweden looked at him in all sincerity. "No."

"But maybe if it would help me focus…oh, I don't know!' Finland's eyes looked like they could go off spinning at any moment. Sweden rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry."

Finland looked at him gratefully before snuggling up to him, pulling a textbook on his lap. "Listen, Su-san, I think we should go over this chapter, because I'm not sure I understand what happened and I'm _sure_ it'll be on the exam, cause whenever I don't study something enough, it's _always_ on the test! Okay, let's take notes too…"

"Finland."

"Yes?"

"You want to go to Helsinki?"

"Yes!" Finland's face brightened. "I've sent out an application and I really want to do good on this exam so I can get in! But you know that already." Finland sensed Sweden's quiet was different from usual. "Why…?"

Sweden didn't say anything for a moment, holding Finland at a distance. The latter was surprised; it showed all over his face. "Finland. You know I like you."

"Yes?"

"But…we should just be friends."

Finland's eyes widened and Sweden realized in a panic that they had become wet. He was scrambling for tissues when Finland spoke again, his voice shaky. "You're breaking up with me?"

What could he say? "Sorry," Sweden mumbled, handing Finland a fistful of lotioned tissues. He sat across from Finland as the boy wiped his eyes, trying to compose himself.

"Why?" Finland's voice had grown softer than a whisper, trying to cover his face with the soft tissues. Sweden felt his heart wrench but explained.

"I like you. A lot. But next year's university. We'll be apart. Long distance relationships don't work." Sweden paused, wondering how he could make it clearer that his heart was in the right place. If Finland was going to keep crying, he might start taking it all back.

"I get it," Finland whispered. "I understand. I had a feeling this might be coming. I was worrying about that too. It would hurt a lot more if we ended it without being able to really talk to each other. But I didn't want you to think about it, so I tried to pretend everything was okay. You should have told me." He sniffed, drying his eyes and staring at Sweden. "I still like you a lot, though."

Sweden didn't say anything, just pulled Finland close again. Finland buried his face in the former's shoulder. "I know it's going to be better this way, if we go to university just as friends, but it still hurts. I know it'll be better this way if we have some time apart before we go, but I still want to be with you…" Finland took a shaky breath and leaned back just to look in Sweden's eyes again. "But I won't make it difficult. Because it's what you want and I trust you."

Sweden stared at him for a moment. "Let's get married," he blurted. When Finland looked surprised again amidst his tears, Sweden quickly backtracked. "I mean, after university. If you're still interested."

"Of course I'd still be interested!" Finland insisted. "Granted, we can't _legally_ get married yet, but it'll change in four years, I know it! But what if you don't want me anymore?"

"Stupid," Sweden murmured, pulling Finland close again to kiss him on the forehead. Finland chuckled as he pushed the textbook out from between them.

"So this is what it's like to be single again," he mused, staring up at the ceiling as Sweden buried his nose in his hair. "It's kind of liberating, actually. Not that I'm saying it wasn't good to be with you, cause it was lots of fun. I sort of wish…" he trailed off, apparently lost in his thoughts before completing his sentence. "I sort of wish we could have realized this all sooner so we could spend more time like this."

"We were friends then. Friends are okay."

"Friends are okay," Finland agreed, leaning against Sweden's shoulder. It was sort of nice, even if they just broke up, just to sit together surrounded by homework and passing the time. Then school resurfaced and Finland suddenly sat up.

"What's wrong?"

A look of utter fear crossed Finland's face. "What are we going to tell Hungary's posse tomorrow?"

Owari

Note: Okay, here are a few things I want to get off my chest. First of all, I know the ending is sort of too happy. But here are my arguments: first of all, Sweden still likes Finland, he just wants them to break up so they don't end it too badly if long distance doesn't work out. It's not like it's one of those 'oh, I'm bored now' sort of breakups. So CHILL. I'm not bashing breakups. And Sweden's basically proposed to Finland. I don't mind if you bash my imagination skills for such a blaze ending. Second, I don't support Su-san grunt speak in AU's. Seriously, in real life, if he spoke like that, he would have gone through speech therapy in younger grades. So I compromised: he now speaks less. Whatever.

Or I just can't write SuFin. Sorry, Nordics. Review, please? Even if you're an angst ridden girlfriend. Next time is Switzerland/Austria. Another epic fail too. Thanks for reading!


	9. Lunchtime in the Band Room

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

**---**

As If the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

The band room was full of haphazard instruments, with trumpets lying forgotten in the corner and a few banged up drum sets among a collection of saxophones, flutes, and clarinet cases lying about. Music stands were thrown in a tangled mess behind the chairs organized in a lecture room fashion, with the conductor to stand on a milk crate. There was a piano behind the conductor, and it was the very thing Switzerland left homeroom every day at lunch to see. Well, that wasn't true; he really went to watch someone play.

It was completely by accident he stumbled onto the piano player. Being a new first year, Switzerland had entered UN without any friends; only a twin sister in another homeroom named Liechtenstein. Although Liechtenstein was a doting little sister, Switzerland didn't want to eat lunch with her and her giggly friends that she was so easily befriending. He was having his own troubles with friends. It didn't help that he'd snapped 'Get out of here or I'll shoot you,' to one of the twins in his class when that annoying bubbly brunette hadn't left him alone.

He had only used that little threat and people were already going around calling him a Yankee and claiming strange rumors like he'd cut off a gangster's hand or carried a revolver on his person at all times. He didn't want to sit alone and eat in class, surrounded by anxious looks and whispers. Switzerland had taken his lunch and wandered around the halls of UN, trying to find a nice place to eat.

That was when he heard the music. Curious, he followed it to a little room hidden over in the art department. Peeking in through the windows on the door, he saw a lone student playing on the piano in the middle of the room. Switzerland only had a side view of this student, but it was a dark haired boy with glasses and a serious expression as he played the notes fluently, filling the room and the adjacent hallway with sound. At first, Switzerland had thought the boy was alone – a moment later, there was a girl sitting behind the piano, waving at him to come in. Feeling temporarily shy, Switzerland scampered away.

The next day, he found himself gravitating toward the band room again. He was just trying to find a place to eat, he kept telling himself. Nothing more. Once again, he found himself staring past the glass, watching the same student playing once more. It was actually kind of soothing, as he was usually on the edge.

Switzerland almost yelped as a hand rested on his shoulder. Whizzing around, ready for a fight, he found himself faced by the girl who had waved to him before. She was smiling at him, a cheerful face framed by long, brown hair. "Hi! It was you yesterday, wasn't it? How are you? My name is Hungary. Do you want to watch Austria too?"

Switzerland stared at her, his mouth agape.

"It's okay. He doesn't mind an extra audience." Pushing open the door, Hungary entered the bandroom. "Austria! It's me! I found the kid who was watching you!" Looking out back at Switzerland, frozen in his tracks, Hungary giggled and pulled him into the room. "See? It's just a first year!"

Austria stopped playing and turned around in the piano stool. "Hello, Hungary." He studied Switzerland for a moment, before smiling politely. "And who are you?"

These kids were upperclassmen! Taking a deep breath, Switzerland composed himself before blurting out, "My name is Switzerland, and I'm a first year in class 1-B. You play really good." Closing his mouth, he felt his usual embarrassed expression slide onto his face, a rather menacing grimace. Austria looked a little surprised.

"Are you new?" Hungary gushed, as if they were now friends. "Oh, you must be. Austria and I have been at UN since we were little tots! I know everyone above me and everyone below me! Me and Austria are second years, you see. Oh! You must be related that that adorable girl, Liechtenstein. I talked to her today. I think she'll be great in my group."

"Hungary," Austria said, his voice sounding a little wary, "I don't think you should be dragging first years into your gang. You're scaring Switzerland."

Ah, Switzerland finally remembered why Hungary looked so familiar. She had burst in one day before homeroom, storming up to one of the twins (the meaner one) and demanded to know what was going on between him and a third year. She was also the one constantly roaming the hallways with a camera. Switzerland had tried to avoid her at all possible opportunities, as she was rumored to be a she-wolf.

"Anyway, Austria," Hungary chirped, oblivious to his scolding, "why don't you continue playing? I really want to hear you today. I totally bombed a test and I'm kind of upset and no amount of photos can console me today. Except maybe if I caught Denmark and Norway together…but whatever." Strolling across the room, Hungary went over to her usual seat and sat down. Switzerland couldn't help but notice how Austria's eyes followed her and he felt a little troubled.

Liechtenstein could tell anything was wrong with her brother. He had just walked past her room, displaying no outward signs that something was amiss, and she poked her head out the door. "Switz," she called, the only living being allowed to use that nickname, "is something wrong?"

"What? Nothing's wrong." Switzerland turned, smiling as best he could. He wasn't much of a smiler.

"Now I _know_ something's wrong," Liechtenstein said wisely. "Because you _never_ try and smile! Tell little sis what's wrong." Holding open her bedroom door, Liechtenstein beckoned at her hesitant brother. "Come on, Switz, it won't hurt to tell me. You know I never tell anyone anything you say."

Liechtenstein would never give up once she got her mind wrapped around an idea. Stepping into the room, Switzerland felt he had entered the lair of adorableness. The walls had a striped pink wallpaper, with posters of adorable animals in adorable poses. The desk was littered with hair ribbons and little ceramic bunnies courtesy of their father, who traveled much and brought home bunnies as presents for his only daughter. The bedspread itself had little stars all over it. Switzerland felt desperately out of place.

"So tell me!" Liechtenstein gushed, sitting down on her bed. "There's something up; I can tell. You like someone, right?"

"Why would think you think that?"

"It's obvious, Switzerland. You usually are really cold to everyone, so it's very obvious when you're not being cold to someone! Or actually, I see you before homeroom after lunch and you're always rushing back to class with a flushed face. Where're you going everyday?"

"No where in particular," Switzerland said offhandedly, staring up at the ceiling. Even there, he couldn't escape cuteness; there was a poster of kittens where white wall was supposed to be.

"Please tell me. I won't say anything, I promise."

It was embarrassing, especially since he didn't like anyone. How could he say who he was seeing to Liechtenstein especially when it wasn't anything like that? "How about you come with me tomorrow then?" he offered, suddenly wishing he was out of the room of cute. Liechtenstein blinked, before breaking out in a grin.

"Okay! I'll wait for you outside the classroom tomorrow at lunch! Do I need to bring anything?"

"Um…no. Your lunch, maybe."

Switzerland had foreseen no negative consequences, meeting Liechtenstein outside the classroom, and he even felt sort of happy as they walked to the band room together. As the doors opened, he suddenly remembered Hungary saying something about knowing his sister…

"Liechtenstein!" Hungary's eyes widened. "What are you doing here? It's usually Switzerland! Have you come to watch Austria play?"

"Austria?" Liechtenstein turned to Switzerland before smiling up at Hungary. "I don't know. My brother said he would show me what he was seeing every day, so I don't know what I'm here for."

Switzerland almost slapped himself against the forehead.

"Did he?" Hungary sounded thoughtful. "Well, come in! We don't want to keep you waiting." She stepped aside and Liechtenstein walked through the door, eagerly taking everything in as Switzerland stood at the door, frozen in place.

"Well, come on, Switzerland," Hungary said kindly. "You don't want to stand out there all day."

Liechtenstein asked all the questions Switzerland had wondered but never found the urge to ask. Why was Austria practicing everyday at lunch? He'd basically lived the piano since he was three and he liked honing his skills since his family was frugal and couldn't afford a grand piano. What he did like to play? He could play almost anything, playing mostly by ear but sheet music could work too. Why was Hungary the only one to listen, before Switzerland? Hungary and he had been friends since youth and she supported his musical aspirations. Did he like anyone? No comment…

"You ask the right questions!" Hungary squealed, looking excited, as if Liechtenstein was a worthy converter. "Liechtenstein, are you in any clubs as of right now?"

"Um…no."

"Great! Then you can join an unofficial club. I'm trying to find a successor for when I leave in two years. It's called the Unite-Boys-In-Pure-Everlasting-Love, or UBIPEL for short!"

Liechtenstein couldn't help but giggle; apparently, the correct reaction for Hungary. "It's not hard at all," the second year gushed on, "there's no ritual you have to perform and everyone's nice, except when they try and scramble for my favor, but it's no problem at all! You can join any time. We're sisters united in the UBIPEL cause!"

"Hungary," Austria said warningly.

"Oh. Sorry. Austria doesn't like it very much when I go on about club activities." Hungary smirked. "Your brother doesn't talk much, does he?"

Switzerland jumped – he had only been eating in silence, listening in and ready to stop any inappropriate suggestions. He hadn't meant to be standoffish. "It seems like an interesting idea," he managed.

"You needn't encourage her," Austria sighed, as Hungary clapped her hands happily. "Now if you will all pipe down, I'll start playing."

As the first chords ran through the band room, Liechtenstein looked over at her brother and noticed an emotion that girls know well. Smiling to herself, she cocked her head at Hungary, who gave her a significant look. It had not gone unnoticed.

Liechtenstein decided to confront Switzerland that very night. "Hey, Switz!" she started happily, giving no indication of her intentions. "Austria was a really good piano player, wasn't he?"

"Yeah." Switzerland was seemingly absorbed in a book he had for World Literature, but Liechtenstein noticed a faint flush creep up his face. "He plays like that all the time."

"Oh, but he certainly is _dreamy_ isn't he?"

"Ye…" Looking up, Switzerland stared blankly into space before turning to his sister, smiling innocently next to him. "What were you trying to make me say?"

"You like Austria!" Liechtenstein shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her brother. "You can't hide it from me! Don't lie either! I know! Me and Hungary _know_!" Dissolving into giggles, she reached over to pinch one of Switzerland's pink cheeks. "That's so _cute_! Austria's a good guy – a little rigid – but cool all the same! You have my approval!"

"Don't be stupid, Liechtenstein," Switzerland scoffed, swatting her hand away. "I do not like him like that in the slightest. I'm a boy, you know."

"So? Boys can like boys!"

Switzerland glared at his twin, who shrugged. "When did you become like this? Who put this in your head? I'll kill them." He, of course, referred to his remarkable marksmanship when it came to any sort of sport that included guns: he had been deemed king of water gun fights, paintball fights, and laser tag. Their parents had not yet approved of him firing an actual gun, and therefore he did not possess an actual gun.

He could kill with basically any that were available, however.

"No one!" Liechtenstein giggled. "But it's okay. It's cute." She cocked her head, the orange ribbon in her blonde hair flashing in the air. "You know I love you very much, Switz. I only want the best for you. So I'll help you in any way I can!"

"Maybe a little too much," Switzerland muttered to himself, turning back to his book. Liechtenstein always tagged along with him even when they were children and he had tried to talk her out of getting her hair cut with him, but he was unsuccessful and off the braids went. She had kept it short ever since, embellishing with cute little clips and colorful hair ribbons. There were some who wished their siblings paid more attention to them. Switzerland knew he was lucky to have such a sister he got along with; but it crossed a certain point.

Especially when Liechtenstein blabbered it to Hungary, the kind-of-hush-hush fact that he was interested (he would not say '_crush' _or '_like_') in Austria. The brunette ambushed him on the way to the band room.

"Oh my _goodness_, Switz!" (Was Liechtenstein's nickname catching?) Hungary grabbed him and held him close, like a mother would a child. Switzerland found himself suffocating in her chest, where she held him unabashedly like smashing boys faces into her boobs was a habit (one most of the male population of the school dreamed of). "You should have _told_ me! Of course, I suspected…but Austria is wonderful, isn't he? I would know; I'm his best friend! You can have him, I'm sure you two will be happy together!"

Pushing the enthusiastic girl off him, Switzerland shot her a glare. "Who would say those kinds of things to you about me?"

"Why, Lise!" At Switzerland's confused look, Hungary clarified, "My new nickname for Liechtenstein. It's cute, isn't it?"

"No. Her name is Liechtenstein."

"Anyway! We've got to talk about you and Austria. How psyched am I about that? These sort of things never happen around me! It's always to other people outside of my friend group…but wow, wow, wow! My best friend and our new freshman buddy! I'm so excited!" Indeed, Hungary's voice was starting to reach inaudible heights.

Switzerland willed himself not to look interested. "_Our_ freshman buddy?"

"Oh! Didn't you know? Austria thinks you're a good friend too! Not a lot of people value his playing like we do, you know. Prussia thinks it's an awful waste of time and America always insists his piano playing is better and therefore America should play at the next assembly. No one really listens, but he doesn't care. But don't tell him I told you…" Hungary bent over and Switzerland found himself leaning over like they were partners in crime. "He _loves_ an audience. You can tell. His pieces reflect his moods, and they've been happy ones as of late!"

Switzerland felt something akin to being paintballed in the gut.

It wasn't an all too unpleasant feeling.

When they walked into the band room together, the feeling came back when Austria turned from the stool and smiled at him.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_! But the piano piece today was a lively allegro.

He was dumb to 'fall' for a second year, wasn't he? He was going to get burned? But there was another happy piece! How could he have done this? He was a reasonable human being; he didn't just like someone because they were talented at something. Sure, he wouldn't deny Austria's piano playing was good…was it something else? Did he feel those gentle hands and the sensitive musician's heart had to be protected?

Damn Liechtenstein's stupid fairy tales.

It was a dumb sense of heroics, Switzerland pondered, as he walked to the band room. He was used to surveying everything with an apathetic mood and now he was showing more of himself than he cared to. If Liechtenstein became like this, he wasn't very well off.

Surprisingly, the only one in the band room today was Austria. Liechtenstein had to go to an art club meeting. Hungary had her unofficial club that took up most of her time, but she always made time to listen to Austria. The second year sensed the question and smiled tensely.

"Hungary went to scope out a scene with a third and first year." Austria looked bored at the topic. "Germany's my friend, so I told her not to, but she wouldn't listen…"

Switzerland thought back a few days ago when one of the twins in his class had come back from a tutoring session flushed red and his shirt a mess. Oh, _everyone_ knew about that.

"You don't mind listening alone?"

Switzerland shook his head. He'd never been alone with Austria before, and he wasn't one to shy away from something like this. "I don't listen because Hungary's here," Switzerland defended, shrugging. There was a defensiveness in his voice he'd preferred not to have shown the second year, but Austria didn't seem bothered.

"Someone who appreciates music for what it is…I like that." There was another shock throughout his body and Switzerland quickly dispelled it by finding a place to sit (band practice must have hit, as the chairs were all over the place and there were instruments strewn all over). Austria watched him for a moment before starting to play a rather melancholy piece.

Switzerland watched the pianist at work, too antsy to eat. Austria always looked so serious when he was playing. It was that face, the one that said, 'Don't-bother-me, I'm-working' and mirrored almost that of ancient musicians. Switzerland wasn't too schooled on music history, but this would be how he imagined a composer back in the day. He hated silliness and Austria had a substance he valued…

He must have dozed off, or had been lost in his thoughts, because the next instinct, Austria had stopped playing and was calling his name. "Switzerland." When Switzerland finally blinked in acknowledgement, Austria looked a bit miffed. "I hope you weren't daydreaming."

"No." Again with the defensiveness!

"It doesn't matter." Austria glanced behind before studying Switzerland. "I have something I want to tell you."

His young first year heart decided to race right then and there. Plastering his signature stoic face on, Switzerland stared back. "What?"

"You can't tell anyone, especially Hungary."

Hungary? Austria told Hungary _everything_. Except matters of relationships. Could this be? Switzerland felt a mixed urge to become violent. Almost anything could make him violent.

"You see, the reason I've wanted you to come listen to me play all the time is…"

Holding breathes was not healthy.

"…because I no longer can play with Hungary alone. I like her."

Holding…holding…he would stop breathing at this point. Switzerland let out a breath and Austria pressed on as if nothing had changed.

"I mean, we've been friends since we were little. She's always been there for me. It's weird now if I just start liking her. It makes everything awkward. Especially since her first love is matchmaking. She won't look at me differently if I'm like this. But I try. Can you help me?"

Switzerland was speechless for a moment. "Help you?" he managed.

"Yes." Austria smiled slightly. "I want you to help me win her over. I know it's a lot to ask, but you're one of my closest friends who cares. Germany has other things to deal with, and…well, I haven't got many friends." There was a sort of plea in Austria's voice. "I mean…I don't think you like Hungary too, do you?"

He'd lost contact with his brain. Words were forming and making no coherent sense. So Austria had never been smiling at him, always Hungary. Of course. Switzerland almost chuckled. "No. She's just a friend."

Austria grinned, and Switzerland realized he'd never really seen the second year smile so brightly. "Great! Thanks. I wanted to tell you this for a while but Hungary was always here and I didn't want her to know…she's very particular about these things, you know."

Switzerland leaned back, resting against a tuba, and Austria started playing again, the tune uplifting this time around. He had been stupid to think he had a chance. This was a second year he was talking about. One he hadn't even known for a long time. It was Liechtenstein and Hungary who put all those fluffy ideas in his mind, but it was him who had accepted them. He didn't know whether to feel hurt or angry. He didn't even feel like feeling either.

It just went to show, staying neutral wasn't as easy as it looked, even when it was the best position to be in. Switzerland closed his eyes, the notes reverberating throughout the band room, and time passed a little slower.

Owari

--

Notes: Hey, guess what. This took me months to write. I kind of hate this pairing now. Actually, I don't, but I rarely write it, which is why it took me so long. So today, I buckled down with my free time and forced myself to end it. Yes, readers, Switzerland would top. If he could. Ag. Don't remind me of my failure.

Gertalia next! Yippee!


	10. Tutor

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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As If the Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

It really wasn't a secret Feliciano kept under wraps. Everyone knew about it. How the first year had been indecisive about which language he wanted to take until he saw Germany in the hallway and overheard how he was becoming a German peer tutor to earn service hours. Half the school had heard when Feliciano stormed up to the school office and shouted, "Sign me up for German on the double!"

Like his brother, Feliciano was well versed in Italian and English but he was hopeless in German. This may have been a result that he really wasn't paying attention in class in the first place. Being a likeable first year, he had easily struck up conversation with anyone close enough to hear him. Mostly, his conversations revolved around a third year he barely knew, but knew enough about to like: Germany. The listener of most of these gushings happened to be Romano.

"I don't give a shit about that guy!" So Feliciano was on the lookout for someone who did.

Halfway through the first quarter of the school year, after his fifth F on the vocabulary tests, Feliciano decided to take things in his own hands and approached his German teacher. "Um, German-teacher-I-don't-really-know-your-name, do you think I need a tutor?"

"Actually, I think if you paid attention and took notes, you would do fine…"

"Um, excuse me, I just got an F, I think I need a tutor! Yeah?" Feliciano flourished his test proudly. "Where do I request a tutor?"

There had been a sheet for requests and the additional comments box was filled with the same name written a thousand times over. _Germany, Germany, Germany, Germany, Germany~_

And someone had the nerve to pair him up with someone who wasn't Germany. Feliciano didn't take the liberty of learning his name before storming back to the peer tutor teacher and explaining, in full detail, the reason why he had specified Germany on his request form. It had taken two hours, minus the half hour spent on discussing pasta types, to explain himself.

When Germany finally found him in the hallway to say, Hi, I'm Germany, I'm your German tutor, Feliciano nearly squealed his vocal cords raw.

On their first tutoring session, Feliciano found Germany's tutoring techniques to be less than adequate.

"School."

"Um…_schule_?"

"Correct." Feliciano waited patiently for some sort of praise but Germany merely looked further down on the vocabulary list. "Teacher."

"No! No! Wrong!" Feliciano leaned forward earnestly. "When I get something right, I should get a reward!"

Germany stared at him. "Exactly how old are you?"

"Sixteen! Old enough!" Feliciano nodded. "And I won't continue if you don't reward me for being right!"

Germany sighed, having dealt with Feliciano at the first session ("Oh my goodness, Germany, what do you want to know about me? I'll tell you everything! I was born…") to know when the boy had something in his head, he wouldn't let it go for the world until he let it out. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, with the patience one has toward a stubborn animal.

"I don't know…" Feliciano said slyly. They were in the far back of the school library after school, where it was deserted. "Maybe…you could kiss me?"

Germany took a deep breath. He'd experienced enough of Feliciano in the first weeks of school to know this was no ordinary first year. "That is hardly appropriate, seeing as we know each other only through your German tutoring. I am also a third year and two years older than you. And this is hardly the setting for such displays of affection."

"It doesn't have to be on the mouth!" Feliciano insisted. "You could kiss me on the cheek! Please? I'll do the rest of the vocab perfectly if you do!"

It was just a first year. Germany figured he could have easily talked some sense into Feliciano, being the authoritative third year, but things got by quicker if you succumbed to the twin's whims. Closing his eyes in exasperation, Germany leaned forward and pecked Feliciano on the cheek, faster than a blink.

Feliciano squealed anyway. His face blossomed red and he held it, murmuring strange 'vee~' sounds for five minutes as Germany waited for him to recover. If this happened every time Feliciano got something right, the tutoring sessions would finish before they covered anything. What a strange first year, wanting something so odd whenever he got something right.

"Why did you request me for a tutor?" Germany asked one time after a particularly useless session, where Feliciano squealed for fifteen minutes straight after Germany asked for the translation of 'love'. Feliciano had caused such a fuss that half the school knew about his pickiness about tutors and how he _had_ to have Germany for a tutor. It was unusual, considering he hadn't known about the twin until the tutoring business occurred.

"Because," Feliciano said mysteriously, collecting his books.

"Because?"

Feliciano swept up all his belongings in his arms before turning and straightening up to face Germany. "Because I really, really, really, really like you, that's why!" With a squeak, he scampered away, leaving the third year in the wake of the confession. Germany, being Germany, stored that in his memory as 'miscellaneous' and pretended nothing had happened.

"I really hate you, you stupid kraut."

Germany was not used to being confronted with angry first years in the hallway between classes, but he was one who adapted. Stepping around Feliciano's twin brother, Germany decided the best route was to accept this verbal abuse, at least until he got to his classroom. Romano persisted, following the blonde.

"Do you know how long Feliciano talks about you? Too long, really. He comes home and it's always 'Germany this' and 'Germany that'. I have a hard time believing you don't know about his stupid crush on you. It's annoying having him talk all the time about that. So either do something about it or back off. I would like to talk about something else than you every night."

Germany reached the history classroom and turned to face his tormentor. Romano gave him a nasty look.

"What do you suggest I do then?"

"I don't know! Tell him how you really feel? I hope he backs off then. I couldn't imagine you liking him back. He's such a nuisance. And I don't like you in the first place. You're a jerk. So if you do like him, I hate you. Am I making myself clear?"

_No,_ but Germany knew when to talk and when to keep silent. Especially since Spain had spotted Romano in the lair of the third years and had run up to administer his daily doses of affection on the first year. Germany turned and went into the classroom, leaving Romano to scream curses in his direction whilst being cuddled by Spain in the middle of the hallway.

That afternoon, Germany decided to cut to the chase. "Do you like me?" he asked, as Feliciano started taking his books out. The brown eyes widened and Feliciano nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes, I like you very much, Germany!"

That was fine. Germany was unfolding the syllabus for Feliciano's class when the twin spoke up again. "So…if you ask me that…um…do you like me back?"

Germany took a deep breath, as he usually did at Feliciano's antics. The first year swallowed nervously and stared up at him. "…I guess I might."

Feliciano was a very physical being but Germany had not been expecting to be tackled and fervently kissed on the mouth while floundering around on the floor. But Feliciano, despite being smaller and unsuspecting, kept him pinned on the floor while letting his tongue run free and wild. Germany realized, as he held Feliciano against him on the floor, he liked how Feliciano kissed him.

Prussia, his annoyance of a brother, was thrilled to find out.

"Oh my, little bro," Prussia sneered as Germany came home, shirt unruffled. "Has the little first year been running loose? Cute. Let me at him when you're done."

Prussia wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. After all, he had been held back one year, after skipping one year completely.

Romano's reaction to the pairing had been drastically different.

"_Ew,_ go wash your mouth out before you say anything else!" Romano shouted, shoving Feliciano out of the room toward the bathroom. "To think you're speaking from a mouth that touched that potato bastard's!"

"Eh? Why would you call Germany that?"

"Um, haven't you noticed? It's only the main thing he eats during lunch! Yuck, that guy grosses me out."

"Hmm, I think I _did _taste something like that when I kissed him today."

"_Eww!_"

"But Romano," Feliciano protested, between being silenced by Romano brushing his teeth for him, "don't you and Spain do this sort of stuff too? You made me promise not to tell mom why you couldn't walk for a few days! I don't think she believed me when I said you fell from the school roof into the fountain."

"Shut up!" Romano's face flushed red and he jammed the toothbrush into his twin's mouth hard, causing Feliciano to whimper. "What Spain and I do is _my _business!"

"_Anyway_," Feliciano said dreamily as Romano took the rest of his anger out on the sink, "now that Germany likes me, I can spend more time with him during school! Ooh! Romano, where do you think we should go on our first date?" Feliciano squealed, a sound that had become white noise to Romano.

Romano snorted, turning off the faucet with a rude twist. "_I _think it's a crazy thing; you and Germany are nothing alike. I bet he doesn't even like you. He just said it so you would stop bothering him. I feel sorry for him. It backfired."

"He wouldn't _say_ anything like that!" Feliciano insisted, suddenly looking panic-stricken.

"I don't know. I wouldn't put it past him."

Germany lived on the western side of the town, where Prussia occasionally appeared if he wasn't lurking around the east side or staying at Spain or France's house. He had just finished taking his dogs in when Feliciano appeared out of nowhere, sobbing about something mean Romano had said and blubbering like crazy.

"You really like me, don't you? You're not just saying it just to keep me quiet, are you? Germany, I really, really, really like you! I mean it! Do you hate me? Do I bother you? I really, really, really like you!"

After thoroughly scolding Feliciano for running across town in bare feet just to ask him such a stupid question, Germany assured that yes, he liked Feliciano, now would he go home now? Somehow, running across town to Germany's house was no problem but now Feliciano cried about how cold his feet were and how tired he was. So Germany drove him home.

They made a little pit stop at the side of a deserted road for fifteen minutes, resulting in a _noticeably_ happier Feliciano when he came back home. Granted, this meant Romano dragged his younger brother back to the bathroom for another mouth washing, but it was worth it.

So Feliciano was a happy camper, showering his Germany tutor with daily affection in any form. There was a sort of cradle-robber quality to the strange relationship – Feliciano seemed so baby-faced and young that he seemed almost too young to a rather mature looking Germany, but Feliciano was so cute and sincere that most anyone was willing to look the other way.

Or Hungary threatened them, determined to keep the sacredness of the couple. There were many a time she intercepted Romano from ruining a picture perfect moment.

Feliciano was happy.

At least, he was, at the beginning. It didn't take him long to notice there was a difference in the way Germany treated him and how Germany treated his friends. Toward Feliciano, Germany was usually responsible and caring, reminding the first year of certain dates and deadlines. There seemed to be a platonic aspect, although Germany wouldn't say no if Feliciano initiated a make out session.

But that was the problem. Feliciano was always the one to initiate.

Germany _seemed_ friendlier toward his friends, Feliciano noted, watching (but not stalking) Germany in the hallway as he spoke to his friends. Sure, Germany hung out with a strange pack, looking like they were into cults and piercings and heavy metal bands, but Feliciano wouldn't comment. Did Germany like his friends more than he liked him? Say no more!

Feliciano evaluated; Germany's friends were dark and mysterious and hardcore, just like the third year himself. Feliciano was a bubbly, happy, light-hearted first year. Germany's friends did (supposedly) sketchy things on the weekends. Feliciano usually spent his Saturdays and Sundays sleeping in and cooking. There were rumors of alcohol and drugs. Feliciano never considered doing either.

_Was_ he too different for Germany to _really_ like him?

"Germany," Feliciano said, one afternoon during tutoring, "what are you doing this weekend?"

It was a question he'd never asked before; usually, Feliciano would gush about things they _should_ do together, like fairs or pop concerts, to which Germany would disagree and they usually spent the weekends apart. Germany blinked, shuffling the vocabulary notecards.

"My friends and I were going to see a concert and crash at my house," Germany said slowly, wondering where this was going.

"Oh! Okay! Can I come too?" Feliciano was shameless, but not shameless enough to invite himself somewhere.

Germany stared at him. "I don't know if you'd like what we'd do…" he said, sounding unsure.

That was it! He really _was_ too different! "No!" Feliciano insisted, pounding the table. "If Germany's there, I'll like it! All I need is you to be happy!" Feliciano giggled, leaning forward to tease Germany with a kiss. "I'm a simple-minded kind of kid, Germany."

Germany still looked uncertain. "If you're sure about it."

What the weekend was about, Feliciano realized, was a bunch of third years he didn't even know coming over to Germany's house, leering at him at first, before conversing among themselves about topics Feliciano had no idea about. The only other familiar face was Prussia, who was the only other friendly teen toward him. The concert happened to be one for a band he'd never heard about, some band called the Natzis that was an intense German screamo band. Feeling utterly lost in his own body, Feliciano tried to find a niche to squeeze in and fell short. But Germany was different here; he was in the midst of things he was passionate about. There was no mistaking the excited flush in Germany's cheeks after the concert, and Feliciano found himself staring at the third year on the ride home.

A third year in the front seat turned, glancing at Feliciano, before asking something in rough German to Germany, who grunted something in reply. Prussia leaned next to Feliciano to translate.

"Munic just asked Germany if you were his girlfriend," Prussia whispered, a smirk on his face.

Feliciano flushed in spite of himself. "What did he say?" he whispered back.

Prussia smiled mysteriously. Back at Germany's house, a couple packs of beer appeared and Feliciano found a bottle being thrust in his hand in the midst of the numerous bodies packed in the basement as the stereo blared more screamo music. The twin cringed as the liquid traveled down his throat.

Romano was, as expected, extremely angry to find Feliciano in his current state when Germany dropped him back home.

"I'm telling you," his older brother scolded, helping him up the stairs, "Germany is not a good influence on you. I don't think you should go play with his weird friends anymore. You reek of beer. You don't even like beer! And you're not supposed to drink."

"Eh?" Feliciano asked, his ears fuzzy from all the loud music.

"You're an idiot!" Romano shouted.

The hangover was bearable, although it made everyone seem out of focus and Germany look more concerned than usual.

"Listen, Feliciano, about last weekend…"

"Oh! It was fun!" Feliciano giggled although it made his head hurt. "Are you doing it again this weekend? Great! I'll come!"

It took some time, but Feliciano learned to get used to beer and wurst and loud, screaming music. Or at least tried too. At least he could fake a badly executed head bang and down a can or two without retching.

"For Germany, I'll do anything," Feliciano murmured, curling up with a headache from the music in Germany's bed one night, abandoning the apparent party downstairs for more quieter atmospheres. He didn't notice when Prussia closed the room door for him.

The next day, Germany put his foot down. "Feliciano, I'm not letting you come with us this time."

"What?! Why not?" Feliciano's eyes widened as he gripped the table, trying not to panic. He thought he was getting closer to Germany and now he was being pushed away. "Am I annoying? Do your friends not like me? Are you getting bored of me?"

"No! You're not a problem, although some of them do like you more than they should." Germany shook the thought from his mind and stared steadily at the first year. "I just don't think you coming is a good idea. You don't…necessarily fit in. It's like a fish out of water."

Feliciano was quiet for a moment before bursting into tears.

"Don't cry," Germany said, sounding a bit startled. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with you…but I don't really spend time with you with everyone else around. And you don't seem to like what we do in the first place. It doesn't fit you."

"Do you still like me?"

Germany sighed exasperatedly. "Why do you always ask me that? I don't hate you. Everything you do seems to revolve around that."

Feliciano sniffed. "Kiss me, then."

Germany sighed again, leaning forward to perform the polite double cheeked kiss before focusing once more on the tutoring session on hand. Feliciano wiped his tears away, finding it still hard to stay in the educational state of mind.

He hadn't been very good at fitting into Germany's sphere.

He wasn't going to give up!

So on Friday night, when the German pack was collapsing in the living room for another intoxicated night, Feliciano showed up at the front door anyway. Prussia let him in, looking amused.

Germany had come from the kitchen, bearing another pack of beer, and saw Feliciano sitting in the middle of a drunk pack of third years, being questioned and poked at, the first year oblivious to this attention. Setting down the beers, Germany took a deep breath. "Feliciano? Can I talk to you privately?"

The group howled and Feliciano leapt to his feet, looking a little nervous as if his hand had been caught in the cookie jar. "Germany…Germany! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, but I wanted to see you…" Germany didn't answer him, taking his wrist and guiding him into the hallway.

"Why are you here."

Feliciano smiled bravely. "I wanted to see you! And hang out with everyone!"

Germany shook his head, the questioning going nowhere. "Why are you doing this, Feliciano?"

"W-what?"

"Why do you always insist on coming with us? I don't think you enjoy it as much as you say you do. So why are you doing this?" Germany's steely blue eyes bore into Feliciano's golden brown ones, demanding the truth. Feliciano fidgeted.

"I…I _do_ like it…"

"Tell me the truth." Reaching out, Germany grabbed the immaculate curl jutting out from the rest of the brown locks, the piece Feliciano prided himself on. The first year jumped, confessing immediately.

"Because!" Germany let go as Feliciano blabbered. "Because! Germany's a third year and I'm a first year and we're nothing alike! I thought…I thought if I were more like you and the people you like, you would like me more. Because I'm not like you." Feliciano looked down at the floor sheepishly. "I guess…I guess it doesn't really matter. I can't be like you."

"Look at me, Feliciano." When the first year didn't react, Germany bent over to meet eyes. "This is why you're a stupid first year, Feliciano. I like you _because_ you're different. If I wanted a relationship with someone who drank with me and listened to the same things I listen to, I wouldn't be with you, would I? Don't cry." Rubbing the struggling brunette's eyes with a thumb, Germany closed his eyes. "I do…like you, Feliciano. You don't have to try and make me like you more."

Feliciano gulped, butterflies being born in his stomach. "Do you mean that?"

It wasn't in Germany's nature to be so open. "Yes."

Feliciano's squeal was so loud it was heard over the stereo.

Owari

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Note: You can slap me in the face and tell me my writing has taken a downward slope. I've been so busy I haven't been writing for weeks. I mean, thankfully I've prewritten some chapters, but…it's not the same. Anyway, I hope you liked this Gertalia! I tried my best on this one! The next one will be a Hungary-based fic! Because I know everyone wants to know what sort of things go on in that girl's head! Review, please!


	11. The Links Don't Actually Work

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: ---

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As If The Year Wasn't Hard Enough!

9/5/20XX

Hi everyone! My name is Hungary, and I started this blog because…well, I don't really know. But a lot of people have blogs and they talk about their hideously boring lives. But I promise you mine won't be boring. I know about Internet safety and how I shouldn't be giving out information about myself or my loved ones or my friends or posting inappropriate pictures of myself…so I won't. Everyone who has a blog bitches about their own lives and no one wants to hear it!

So this blog will be different. I will not be talking about myself. I will be talking about others.

Some background information about me: I've started my first year in high school! I'm sort of excited. No more middle school drama. I'm over all that. I mean, it's only so much when you hear about some slut in your grade supposedly doing someone else. Boring! There's no legitimacy! I hate being lied to! Although I'm aware this makes me seem dull and possessing no life, but I started researching all the rumors I heard. I want to know the facts, you know. No one wants to be fooled. After a while, this research became a habit of mine. A hobby, if you will. I like hearing things first. I'm a professional gossip! If you think that makes me like other girls, I will take my frying pan and smash it against your head. Say anything like that and I will hunt you down.

I prefer the term 'paparazzi'.

Anyway, I'm assuming that a new year with new people will mean I get to indulge in my hobby and my secret…not so secret, really…obsession. I'm sure it will become apparent in later posts. I'm not a very vague person.

Today, we had the beginning of the year assembly and

I'LL COME OUT AND SAY IT I LOVE BOY ON BOY ACTION.

Note to self: keep an eye on America and England.

10/1/20XXX

I'm sorry. I haven't posted in a while. I don't have a lot of readers yet. I think I'll get the rest of my club (unofficial) to become fans. My club is called UBIPEL, short for Unite Boys In Pure Everlasting Love. I considered a lot of other names, but most of them were inappropriate. This I can spell out on paper, especially if the university advisers want to know what clubs I was in.

News update: America and England are together!!

How I know: I wasn't stalking America or anything, but he was walking around the school and trying to find England. He's a new kid (America) so I didn't know what he could want with an old kid (England) besides a little bit of lovin'. He found England in an abandoned classroom. What does this spell? Sexual tension!

I didn't take any pictures or anything…

Yeah, I did. _Link_

Other news update: Watch out for France and Canada!

11/19/20XX

Suspect Finland and Sweden are secret lovers. Yes, I just said secret lovers. Also, Prussia asked me out today. I refused him. He didn't want to do any making out with any boys, so that was a definite no.

Also, Prussia is gross.

Today, Austria discovered the bandroom. It is deserted during lunch. Because of my best friend's obsession with all things piano, this means he will lurk in the bandroom during lunch. And because I am a good friend, I will listen to him play. Also, his music helps me concentrate when I'm putting my scrapbook together. My UBIPEL scrapbook.

1/4/20XX

New Years Resolution: UNITE MORE BOYS

1/29/20XX

I just found out that Denmark tried to get in Finland's pants. WHOA I KNOW. My little group of UBIPEL sisters (we only have a few…I'm hoping to get more converts next year) were all over this. I had to check it out. Apparently, Denmark was talking to Finland before homeroom and tried to grope him. Sweden was just a few feet away. Disappointed as I was not able to capture this on camera. Other New Years Resolution: Get to school earlier. Also get a better camera. (I'm thinking of taking my talents to the classroom and taking photo class next year)

Sweden doesn't talk very much so he didn't really do anything except scowl. Finland's adorable, but let's face it; he would be too good to stop a rape. But then! This is the shining ray of sunlight on my ordinarily dark winter day: Norway came out of nowhere and backhanded Denmark! If this isn't jealousy, I don't know what is. Actually, I don't know what it is. Maybe it isn't.

Note to self: Keep myself and sisters updated on this.

3/2/20XX

Ho hum. Took pictures of France making out with Canada in the janitor's closet. _Link_.

I need a job so I can keep getting money to develop all these photos. My north and west walls of my room are covered with all my pictures, categorized by pairing in different quadrants.

Note to self: Prussia proposed again. Rejected him again. He went crying to his friend Spain. This leads to the note: I need to set Spain up with someone. Spending singlehood alone with Prussia cannot be healthy.

3/30/20XX

Planning on writing letter to superintendent to stop all sorts of spring exams so I can focus on the relationships going on. Might even email him a gallery of sweet America/England pictures I took recently. _Link_.

Can taking a lot of pictures cause carpal tunnel in an index finger? Must research before buying UBIPEL club cameras.

PS – Isabel in Spain's Spanish class is making a list of potential boyfriends. For Spain. Good luck!!!

4/16/20XX

Spring!! When thoughts turn to love! Or sexytimes! Caught more pictures of France/Canada. They are the best. _Link_

Today, Korea shouted through the hall "China's breasts are MINE!". China is a boy. Korea is a boy. New development in UBIPEL.

5/9/20XX

Late at night and I still have an English paper to write. Need more hard disk space. Cannot bring self to delete present galleries. Currently collecting pictures of Sweden and Finland. Suspect something sweet should happen soon.

Long overdue UBIPEL mission statement: _The Unite Boys In Pure Everlasting Love (UBIPEL) sisterhood strives to bring an acceptance and understanding to all boylove pairings and protects the sacred unity of individuals involved. Careful monitoring and secret meetings for the purpose of furthering our cause is necessary. This is a volunteer service club._

I can hardly keep myself awake. I might even need to beat myself with a frying pan. If I fail English this quarter, I might not be able to move into second year English with Denmark and Norway. Reason: Denmark is stalking Norway. Evidence: _Link._

I hate books!!!! Words are nothing compared to pictures! PICTURES TELL ALL.

6/1/20XX

Did not fail English from last post, thankfully. Graduated from first year with flying colors. Austria came out top of class. He is so awesome.

Summer vacation = no boy love pairings. But I'm raring for next year. There should be some fresh blood. YAY!

PS – England caught me going on this blog earlier today and was yelling at me about private blogging on school grounds. Thank you England. Now that everyone heard about my blog, there has been an influx of readers.

7/10/20XX

Categorized pictures finally by alphabetical order, pairing order, and level of steaminess in my computer. A job well done.

8/29/20XX

Daddy bought me a new camera with faster shutter speed. Thank you daddy! I don't think he knows what I plan to use it for. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

9/29/20XX

I am a second year. And I am in LUCK. The first years are a great picking. I know because there are a pair of adorable twins. One of them is so cute! I overheard him talking to his brother about taking German because someone he likes is taking German and can tutor him. UBIPEL sisters suspect the person in question is Germany. Must take pictures.

Isabel says Spain is now teaching first year Spanish. Also in the class is the other twin. Isabel says she can scrap the list of potential boyfriends because the twin is the one. Also need pictures for this.

Stayed after school today to lurk and saw Denmark also lurking outside art room for Norway. Took pictures of this (today wasn't a complete failure after all).

UBIPEL sister Seychelles said there were several additions to the student council. One is a new second year who's in my math class. His name is Japan. The other new addition is a first year called Latvia. Seychelles thinks Latvia might have a crush on Estonia. I have sent Seychelles off with a camera to make sure this is true.

Also, verified that Sweden and Finland are INDEED going out. Here is their picture: _link_.

I'm kind of excited for this year.

10/4/20XX

Prussia, known king of grossness, asked Austria out. I was absent from the bandroom to stop this since I was trying to capture Russia fighting with Poland over Lithuania on camera. _Link_. But Austria is my true friend. He turned him down.

I think I should feel bad for Prussia. After all, he tried the boylove thing. It just didn't work.

Rumors say that third year Greece is a pothead. More rumors say Japan is supplying him. IS THIS TRUE? Must take pictures. Noted that Greece likes cats. Japan is cat-like. In some ways.

To do: make Japan put on cat ears.

10/6/20XX

Japan was more than happy to put on cat ears. _Link_. This makes me think Greece has something good going on. I support this. Japan was interested in UBIPEL but I have a policy that it is a sisterhood thing only. He can be our male associate.

America and England were caught making out in the gym equipment. When I caught wind of this, I was there before they could untangle themselves. _Link_. Success!!

Isabel says Spain and Romano are not getting along, but this is to be expected of someone like Romano who is stubborn.

Lurked in the library and took more pictures of Germany and Italy. _Link._

11/19/20XX

Interviewed Poland on why he keeps trying to prevent Russia from asking Lithuania out. Cannot even understand my own handwriting. I suspect he speaks in his own language. Wanted to join UBIPEL, suspect because it is an all girls group. Considered, but he is a boy, after all.

Found two new first years! One is Switzerland, who likes to listen to Austria too. He doesn't say anything if I talk about boy love, so he is okay. He is protective of his sister though. But Liechtenstein is a good girl. She wants to join UBIPEL. Everyone else is okay, so I think she should become part of the sisterhood soon. Yay!

Caught Korea groping China in the bathroom. Not that I was in the boy's bathroom. Or anything. _Link_

12/1/20XX

Canada is such a man. He told France, apparently, that he wants to be in a relationship. Therefore, they are now in a relationship. That didn't stop them from making out. I don't understand the difference. Seychelles says France is less creepy toward everyone though. I guess this is a good thing.

Seychelles is also trying to issue a plea for the UBIPEL sisterhood to establish Estonia and Latvia as a pairing. She volunteers to head the cause. She has made a list of how she will carry it out. I think I saw cross-dressing on the list. Once she makes it public to us, I think it will go through. Pictures needed, of course.

Everyone's favorite pairing, America and England: _link_.

anon commenter: Thanks for your patronage! I cannot believe I go to such a lucky school either.

12/15/20XX

I have five hundred watchers!! Most go to school with me! Thank you for supporting the UBIPEL cause. But I think most of you read just to see the pictures. No one other than students of our school would really care about all this drama. I think I need to talk to the IT department to see if I can get this as a branch off our school web page.

Recent rumor: Did you know? A certain principal and a certain art teacher are getting it on after school.

( Belgium: You're lying. You didn't see that.)

( Belgium again: But then again, Rome is the twins' relative, so maybe it's possible…)

12/25/20XX

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! When the snow is all gone, it will be spring and spring is when spring chickens hatch.

Don't even know what I just said.

Also, with a little bit of a threat (and my frying pan), the IT department head agreed to add the blog to the network. It will only be accessible to the student body. Apparently, he tried to ask the principal to suspend me or something (what balls!) but when Rome read it, he wanted to know more about his grandsons or something and more about school life so he agreed to it.

This is such an unorthodox school but I LOVE it!

PS: Principal Rome: I may have said some nasty things about you in the hall and I am also trying to see if you and Germania are up to no good, but you still rock!

1/14/20XX

Caught Greece and Japan making out in the stairway to the roof. Duh. No one will go out and smoke in this weather. _Link_.

2/2/20XX

Seychelles's master plan for the school festival is BRILLIANT! I won't tell you what it is, since I want it to be a surprise, but I'll give you all a hint: I'm buying fabric.

Also, it's getting warmer. Warm temperatures breed deliciousness.

France: I do not mind if you tell me of your lewd activities, but please do not leave perverted comments in my comment box. Instead, inform me of the time and date of your rendezvous with Canada and I will be nearby to take pictures.

2/27/20XX

Isabel says things on the Spain and Romano front are looking up. Slightly. This makes me happy. Prussia, known king of pigs, sent me an email saying that Feliciano attended a screamo concert. This concerns me. I might have to have a talk with Germany.

Seychelles heard that Japan may be moving soon. No! Not my precious Greece/Japan! Today I stalked them to take more pictures of them. _Link_.

3/20/20XX

Spring has come early, and with spring comes a great number of good beginnings.

First, Denmark was suspended for a week for screwing up the school grounds with some paint. But I was there before the paint was taken off and it was an apology! Not to mention Norway's getting snappy when it comes to Denmark. I talked to Iceland. He didn't want to say anything but he finally cracked. He may be a fanboy at heart. I knew the sexual tension in the air would be gone.

Also! I attended a fair as of late! This isn't good quality, but it's the best I have at the moment. _Link_. Spain and Romano are legitimate!!! Also caught America and England making out behind some tents. Those deviants, you. _Link_.

4/15/20XX

The school festival was a SUCCESS! Let me tell you how it went. No, I can't wait to say it! We dressed Latvia up in a skirt to steal Estonia's heart! And it might have worked! Prussia, king of goons, ruined it by flirting with him, but screw him. Whatever. Pictures are numerous. They range in the fifties. Latvia can work a skirt. I plan to make more. _Link_.

Also, Isabel said Romano had dressed up in a maid outfit. I am disappointed I didn't design it, but here are some more pictures. _Link_.

A few days ago, I cornered Switzerland and made him admit he liked Austria. Squeal! Liechtenstein, you were right! I expect pictures!

To do: Beat up Turkey for trying to rush Egypt. No one should be pressured into doing anything, especially not anything important as being deflowered. What a jerk.

5/25/20XX

Today was the last day for third years. What a deboggle. I got a great stash of photos.

First of all, England made this big student council speech to us second years saying that we were now in charge and all that bull and then America just stands up and shouts that he'll miss him and everything just goes up in arms. I'm taking pictures, teachers are trying to restore order, France disappears with Canada, oh my! Greece was nowhere to be found. I suspect this is because Seychelles said Japan left yesterday. I feel kind of bad. But I still have my gallery.

Note to self: Find where Japan is.

The twins are cute, but when they're blubbering, they're picture perfect. Feliciano was practically clinging onto Germany and begging him not to go. Somehow this didn't look pathetic. Don't really know why. Then I spotted Spain being a dense idiot and not knowing that Romano was about to burst into tears. Somehow, this wasn't pathetic either. Then Korea ended the whole assembly wailing how he was going to miss China's breasts.

UBIPEL was very busy today. Everyone was in the dark room after school trying to develop all the pictures.

Now with most the seniors gone, I feel like I don't have a lot of pickings anymore. Sweden and Finland were just sitting around as if they'd never broken up after all. Prussia was still king of dirt. I think this is what we call third year slump.

Then I thought that after next year, someone would have to be in charge of UBIPEL.

I don't know. I'm usually not so nostalgic. Or depressed about the future. I think it's pairing withdrawal. Oops, there I go, bitching about my life. Sorry! I suppose I should just cut to the chase and give you all what you're really reading for.

_Link_

Owari

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Note: I apologize. I had difficulty trying to figure out how to write this chapter for Hungary in first person. But as I was cleansing myself, this blog format came to me. So it happened. Hopefully, it gives a bit of background observer information. And future pairings! Next up is Russia/Liet, which will hopefully not take forever.


	12. Warning: this is not a chapter

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

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Please check back at a later date for more chapters.


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